California Dreamin'
by chocaholic123
Summary: 1967. Summer stalked in like a lion that year, fierce and angry; looking for someone to eat. Among the hippies, free love and Vietnam, we were forced to grow up, whether we wanted to or not.
1. Chapter 1

**1967**

**Chapter 1**

Summer stalked in like a lion that year: fierce, angry, and looking for something to eat. Our high school graduation had caused more than one student — and a lot of parents — to suffer heatstroke, overloading our already stretched town hospital to the point where they tried to call in reinforcements from San Francisco.

The city was having none of it. They had their own problems, particularly in Haight-Ashbury, and were trying to bring in relief from local towns. One of them was my daddy, Chief of Police in Wentworth, CA. He would travel down to San Francisco for days, then return with a sad face and a shaking head, telling me on no account was I to go to the city that summer.

Of course, that made me want to go even more.

Angela and I spent our days hanging around the crowded, stagnant lake, fighting our way through the laid-out towels, trying to find the fastest route to the shore. We were desperate for some succor from the hot, dry air. She would bring drinks, and we'd find a spot in the sand to bury them to keep them cool. We'd lost more than one can that year, and we would laugh that in a thousand years, an archaeologist would dig them up and scratch his head, wondering what cultural significance a can of Tab could have on the world.

When evening came, we would run back to Angela's house on Maple Street, giggling at the way the boys tried to push out their bare chests to impress us or at something one of the cheerleaders had said. We'd race to be the first to her garage, where she kept the turntable her mom had given her for her eighteenth birthday the previous month. We were always bickering about whose musical tastes were superior.

Angela played a lot of _Sergeant Pepper_. Though I loved the Beatles, I wanted to throttle Mr. Kite and was weirded out by the haunting sitar that wound its way through the music. I'd run faster to get my own choice on the record player. Angela would try to keep up, complaining that my favorite disc, "Ode to Billy Joe," not only depressed her but actually made her want to throw herself off the Tallahatchie Bridge.

We laughed a lot that summer.

"It's not fair. You always were the faster runner," Angela complained when she finally caught up. I was standing inside the oven masquerading as a garage, lifting the gramophone needle gently and placing it on the vinyl, listening as the familiar guitar rhythm filled the room. I whipped around, grinning wildly at Angela and started to sing in time to Bobbie Gentry's mellifluous tones.

"_It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty Delta day_…"

Angela shook her head, stuck out her tongue, and then threw her hands up in the air, opening her lips to join in the song.

"_I was out choppin' cotton, and my brother was balin' hay_ …"

She lunged across the concrete floor of the garage and grabbed my waist, swinging me around much faster than the tempo of the record called for. My dark brown hair whipped around my face, tickling my nose, and the two of us collapsed in a heap, giggling, while Bobbie sang about Brother Taylor coming around.

When the song finished and the needle was making scratchy noises against the vinyl, Angela looked up at me, her pale, even features drawn down into a frown.

"That has to be the most depressing song I've ever heard. What's it all about, anyway?"

We'd had this discussion before, but it never failed to entertain us. Why did Billy Joe McAllister throw himself off the Tallahatchie Bridge?

"You know what I think?" I began, trying to fix my hair in the rusty, dusty mirror hanging at the end of the garage. "I reckon she had his baby, and that's what Brother Taylor saw being thrown in the river."

Angela shook her head. "I think he was gay. Imagine the outcry if that got found out."

"Nah, it was definitely a baby." I clipped my hair back, winding the final few tendrils behind my ears.

"How come nobody knew she was pregnant, then?" Angela pushed me away from the mirror and touched up her lipstick. We'd both bought the palest we could find, not far off white, and spent a large part of our day reapplying.

"Maybe she hid it well. I don't know." I shrugged.

"Talking of hiding, did you hear about Jessica Stanley?" She turned to face me, a little 'I know something you don't know' smile on her face. I grabbed her hand and we walked out on to her driveway, dragging two metal garden chairs behind us. We liked to sit here in the evenings and watch the world go by. We spent our time giggling at the boys from our school and rolling our eyes at the moms calling in their children.

"What about Jessica?" I asked, dropping down onto the warm, metal seat. I had never been a fan of Jessica Stanley — or rather she'd never been a fan of me — though we'd shared a lot of classes senior year. She was a cheerleader, a golden girl, who spent most of her time fogging up the glass in Mike Newton's brand new Ford Mustang.

"Word has it she's having a baby." Angela's grin was big. She wasn't a fan, either.

My eyebrows rose up into my hairline. This was news.

"Really?"

Angela nodded her head. "Uh huh. Funny how only a few weeks ago she was moaning about having to get a job after graduation. Seems like her career choice is set in stone."

I grinned back. "Looks as though we'll be going to a summer wedding."

"Let's hope Mike doesn't throw himself off the Tallahatchie Bridge." Angela wiggled her eyebrows.

I kinda hoped he would. Mike had been the bane of my existence since I could remember; pulling my pigtails in grade school, tripping me over in junior high. By the time we reached senior year, he'd become a little crueler; planting a dead mouse in my locker and trying to make me kiss him under the bleachers after school. He'd made me cry that day.

"I guess she'll be joining the Junior League and having lunch with all the ladies of the town." We both smiled. Angela and I had spent all year applying to colleges, stoking our dreams of escaping, of getting out of Wentworth. Angela, who had the superior intellect, had been accepted into Columbia, whereas I would be studying English at Berkeley. I was eager for September to arrive and frightened that it would be here too soon. We had less than two months to grow up.

A station wagon slowly drove down Maple, swinging into the driveway opposite Angela's house. We watched as Mrs. Black unloaded her three children, shooing them up the driveway and shouting at the dog as he refused to leave the trunk of the car.

"I'm going to San Francisco next week." Angela confided as the eldest son turned around and stuck his tongue out at us.

"What? Why?" And the unspoken sentence: _Can I come?_

"One of Martin Luther King's staff is coming to make a speech. I missed his visit in January. I'm sure as hell not going to miss this." Angela was the queen of politics at Wentworth High, and I was her willing aide. Together, we'd arranged demonstrations, written banned articles, and — our pièce de résistance — orchestrated a sit-in against the Vietnam War that lasted four days. The principal hadn't been pleased. "Plus, I seriously want to see the hippies in Haight-Ashbury. It's social history in the making. Are you coming?"

"My dad will never let me go." I picked at the rust on the arm of the chair, letting the flakes fall to the ground.

"So, don't ask him. Tell him you're sleeping over with me. My mom will back us up." Mrs. Weber was what my dad called "permissive." It wasn't a compliment.

Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I scanned through my options. I could stay here while Angela went and had all the fun, getting to experience the excitement that was San Francisco. Or I could go with her, throw myself into the experience, and come back with a story I could tell my grandchildren one day.

For most people, that wasn't much of a choice. But I was a good girl, always maintaining decent grades, always home before curfew. I was afraid of authority, particularly fearful of my dad, and this made me procrastinate for longer than I should.

"Okay, I'll go." My stomach lurched at the thought.

"Really?" Angela was as surprised as I was. I nodded, unable to speak, scared that the nausea rumbling at the pit of my stomach would rise up and make itself known. Angela grabbed my hand, her grin wide with excitement. "This is going to be so much fun, Bella. I'll give Ben a call and tell him he needs to make room for one more."

Ben was Angela's on-again, off-again boyfriend. A college junior, she only saw him during school breaks, but the two of them shared a love of all things political. A debate between them was a sight to be seen. She confided that their battles followed them into the bedroom or the back seat of his car, an image that made me want to douse my brain with Lysol.

"Sounds good," I replied, trying to return her smile.

I spent the week on tenterhooks, trying to cajole my father's schedule from him, casually mentioning sleepovers and not being around.

The evening before we were due to go, I was so fretful I could barely eat. My dad was scooping up his peas with his fork, his other hand holding the evening paper, occasionally tutting as he read the news. Eventually, with a rustle and a clang of metal on porcelain, he put down his paper and fork and stared over at me, drawing his eyebrows together.

"So you want to sleep over at the Weber girl's?" His voice, as always, was low and gruff. He was feared by the community, as well as his daughter.

I nodded. "Yes, sir. Her mother has agreed to it."

He scrutinized me, running his eyes up and down my face. I could feel myself falling short of his expectations, whether he knew it or not. "Very well. I'm not a big fan of Mrs. Weber, but if you promise to be in bed by 10:00 p.m., then I'll let you go."

"Of course." I was eager to acquiesce. "I'll be sure to do that."

"Hmmm." He lifted the paper back up to his eyes, signaling the discussion was over. I pushed myself up to standing, taking his plate, balancing it on my own.

I barely slept that night. I tried to work out what to wear — knowing my usual, Charlie-sanctioned, conservative dresses would make me stick out like a sore thumb. Eventually, I'd chosen a short, monochrome A-line dress that Angela had given me for my birthday. I'd hidden it at the back of my closet, not wanting to see my father's face if I wore it. It would be cool enough to keep my temperature under control, and maybe — just maybe — for once, I wouldn't stand out as different.

I hated being different.

I arrived at Angela's house at 6 a.m. We ran up to her room, grabbed her cosmetic bag, and proceeded to apply each other's makeup; painting on a base of pale foundation, followed by thick, dark kohl and a paler lipstick. When we were finished, we looked at our handiwork in her bedroom mirror and grinned.

The excitement was bubbling in my stomach. We were really doing this. Travelling into the city of love to soak up the atmosphere of Haight-Ashbury, then listen to a speech by a man close to Martin Luther King himself. I could feel the blood fizzing in my veins like a just-opened bottle of Coke.

"They should be here soon. It might be a squash."

"Who's coming, anyway?" I noticed a stray bit of kohl and rubbed it gently, trying not to ruin the rest of my make-up.

"A few of Ben's friends from college. I've never met them." Angela pulled me away from the mirror, scanning me up and down. "Jesus, Bella, you look beautiful. We definitely should get you some more clothes before you head to Cali State."

I glowed under her approbation. We'd been friends since freshman year, but I'd always thought of her as the prettier, smarter, more dynamic friend. It made my heart explode to hear she thought I was pretty.

We were waiting on the sidewalk when Ben pulled up in his mom's station wagon. Angela skipped to the front, pulling the door open and tapping her feet until the guy sitting there got out, grumbling about girlfriends and calling shotgun. Ben opened the driver's door and walked around to Angela, sweeping her up in his arms and planting his lips firmly on hers.

"Hey, babe. Ready?"

Eventually he glanced over at me. "Hi, Bella. I'm afraid you're going to have to sit with these jackasses." He pointed to the two men standing on the sidewalk. "That's Tyler Crowley. Feel free to ignore him. We do." Tyler winked at me and doffed an imaginary cap. I hadn't seen many African-American men before, but the way his dark skin sparkled under the early morning sun made me want to touch him.

"And that's Edward Cullen. He doesn't like to be ignored."

The second guy looked up, a crooked grin on his face. As he caught my eye, he blinked twice, long lashes sweeping his cheeks. It was as if he had been sculpted – his bone structure was so perfect – and I wondered if anybody had ever cut themselves trying to touch it.

I wanted to find out.

"Hi, Bella." Edward reached forward and took my hand. Swallowing hard, I tried to ignore the way my heart raced and my blood boiled as we touched. His eyes glanced down, scanning my body, and I found myself worrying about my too-thin, pale legs and the way my new dress left everything exposed.

"Hi." It was all I could manage. I wanted to scan him, too, and enjoy the way his white t-shirt clung to his abdomen, rising and falling gently over his firm ridges of muscle. I could only imagine the way his blue jeans fell from his hips, though I was determined to check it out by the end of the day.

"We'd better get going. Hop in." Ben opened the passenger door, and Angela climbed in gracefully.

The rest of us scrambled into the hot backseat; Edward on the left, me in the middle, then Tyler to my right. They both wound down their windows, leaning their arms on the door edge, and I tried to make myself as small as possible in the middle, not wanting to touch my legs against them. We were almost on the outskirts of town when Ben came to a stop outside a rickety, old bungalow, beeping his horn loudly. I'd been to this place once or twice with Angela since Eric Yorkie worked on the school paper with us. We'd hung around the darkroom in his basement. I'd been fascinated with the process he followed, developing the pictures he had taken with his scratched Kodak.

Eric flung open the door, his camera swinging around his neck as he clambered down his porch steps, his straggly hair falling in his eyes. I looked around the car with my brows knitted, wondering exactly how he was going to fit inside.

"Um, is Eric going in the trunk?" I leaned forward and asked Ben. He turned around and looked at me, a wicked grin on his lips.

"It's gonna get a little cozy in the back there. Sorry about that, Bella."

I swallowed slowly. My leg was barely an inch away from Edward's, and though Tyler was doing his best to give me room, the cotton of his pants had glanced my thigh a few times. Squeezing an extra body in there and glancing would be the least of my worries.

I fanned my face. Though the sun had barely been up for an hour, the interior of the car was already sweltering. God only knew what adding Eric Yorkie into the mix would do.

"I'll sit up front with you," I suggested to Angela, then pulled back when I saw Ben's hand wrapped around her bare knee. Bad idea.

Eric pulled open the door next to Tyler, who tried to move along the bench seat without touching me. Even with Eric's scant frame, there was no disguising we were going to be packed like sardines in the back. As I scooted across, my hip rubbed against Edward's jeans, and I felt a blush steal across my face when our thighs smashed together. Glancing up, I saw his eyes trained to the bare skin above my knees, my dress riding up so it barely covered the tops of my legs.

"This isn't going to work," Eric complained. "Bella, you're going to have to sit on somebody's lap."

My flush deepened. Out of all of them, the one I'd prefer to sit on would be Eric, but even with my slim body, I'd squash him like a fly.

"Come here." Edward's voice was gruff. He curled his hands around my waist and lifted me effortlessly, dragging me across his legs until I was settled on his lap. He kept them there, holding me tightly, and I told my lungs to breathe. Edward groaned.

"Am I heavy?" I asked, wriggling around to take the weight off his thighs.

"Not heavy, just... try to sit still."

I stopped moving, willing my body to relax, trying to loosen the muscles of my back so I wasn't ramrod-straight. "Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

Ben laughed in the front. "Only one part of him."

I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up, Cheney," Edward muttered. "Just get on and drive."

Ben tuned his crackly car radio to KPMX. Scott McKenzie's "San Francisco" blasted through the speaker. I felt Edward relax behind me, leaning back into the cushion of the bench seat. I tried to do the same, feeling his hard muscles against my back. He was singing softly, his voice surprisingly pleasant, and I closed my eyes, wondering if I should wear a flower in my hair when we got to Haight-Ashbury.

"This song is shit." Eric complained, bursting through our peaceful moment. "It's almost as bad as 'California Dreamin'."

Edward laughed, his chest rising up and down against my spine, his deep chuckle resonating through my ears. I cracked open an eyelid and stared over at Eric. A scowl marred his whole face.

"What sort of music _do_ you like?" Tyler asked him.

"None of that hippy crap. I prefer rock; Beatles, The Stones. That sort of thing."

"I hear George Harrison is in Haight-Ashbury," Ben remarked, turning his head around. I opened my eyes fully and saw his hand holding the large steering wheel, his grip easy and relaxed. "He's brought Patti Boyd with him."

"No way!" Eric leaned forward, his head almost touching the back of Angela's seat. "Do you think we'll see him?"

Ben shrugged. "Maybe, I've no idea. You'll find all sorts of people playing music in the streets there. Just keep your eyes open. Right, Edward?"

I turned to look at him. His face was so close to mine it was hard to focus. His breath danced softly against my skin, and I had to remind myself to exhale right along with him.

"Right," he agreed, his eyes never leaving my face. "But you want to be careful, too. I know it's all about free love and happiness, but there're some assholes there who've just arrived for a fight."

"Have you been staying in Frisco?" I asked him, my voice just creeping out past the nervous lump in my throat.

"I helped out at the Free Clinic for a few weeks before staying at Ben's," he replied.

"Edward's studying medicine," Ben added. "Although, his dad has threatened to disown him, so I hear."

Edward laughed, a deep chuckle that warmed my blood. "My father's a congressman. He doesn't take too kindly to my spending time in Haight."

I mouthed an "oh" and watched his eyes darken as he stared back at me. His grip around my waist tightened, and I found myself wanting to wriggle against him again. This wasn't good.

"Do you want to be a doctor?" Eric asked, his attention drawn away from the music. "All that blood and guts? Man, so cool."

"Eventually," Edward agreed. "I finished pre-med this year. Then once I'm back, I hope to complete my studies."

"Back from where?" I questioned, finally finding my voice.

"Vietnam."

The car turned silent. The word was like a gag; it stopped us all from speaking. I felt the nausea rise in my stomach as I considered this beautiful boy fighting in Asia.

"You're going to 'Nam?" I eventually whispered.

He nodded.

He wasn't the first boy I knew who went to fight. My cousin was drafted a year before, and I remembered hugging him as he walked toward the station, his hair shorn close to his scalp, his uniform strangling his hulking body like a snake wrapping around a neck. He didn't come back.

"Bella's anti-Vietnam," Eric interjected, ignoring the angry glare I shot him. "She and Angela arranged a demo at our school. Bella even wrote it up in the school paper."

Angela laughed. "You took the photos to accompany Bella's article, Eric, so don't play the innocent."

Eric spluttered, "Only because Bella threatened to castrate me if I didn't." It was true. I'd wanted some candid photographs to accompany my words, not that we were even allowed to print it. We did manage to sneak into the school one evening and send a few copies through the press, though. I still had one at home, tucked under my mattress, ready to show to whomever ran the newspaper at Cal State.

"She certainly looks like a big threat," Tyler agreed, a twinkle in his eye. He didn't speak much, but when he did, he made me smile with his deadpan wit. "No wonder you bent over and took it like a man."

Edward leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "I'd like to see that article." His breath tickled my neck, and I had to hold myself very still. I had the strongest urge to lean back until his lips touched my skin.

"We've all got copies." Angela turned around and looked at us, her eyes widening when she saw how close we were sitting. She cleared her throat. "So why are you going to fight, anyway? You don't look like the military type."

Edward shrugged. "I'm not, but I refuse to let my father buy me out of service. If going to Vietnam is good enough for the rest of America, then I'm not running away to Canada."

"When do you go?" My voice was rougher than I'd thought.

"I start basic training in September."

So soon. I was spending this last summer before college getting worked up about leaving home and becoming an adult. Meanwhile, Edward Cullen was about to fight a war he didn't necessarily agree with, and the thought made me feel small.

"You take care out there." I twisted in his lap and touched his shoulder. His skin burned beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt. He glanced down at my hand and then back at my eyes before nodding.

It was enough.

* * *

**Thank you all so much for reading. This story was inspired by a photo sent to me by MidnightCougar. I started to write a one-shot and then kept on going. I plan to post once a week, but I've never been the most patient of people, so you may see faster updates!**

**SunflowerFran betas, and Mid, Sparrow and Pates pre-read. Thank you guys for your support.**

**Finally, the lovely SparrowNotes24 made the best banner I have ever seen for this story. I adore it and her.**

**See you soon, and have a great week.**

**Choc xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"I'm hungry," Angela announced when we were about an hour away from the city. "Anybody got any food?"

"Nothing here, baby." Ben shrugged. "We're making good time though. We could stop for a bite to eat."

Though my stomach rumbled, it was from nausea rather than hunger. Ever since our discussion about Vietnam I'd been feeling progressively worse. Whether it was from the subject or the heat of the car, I wasn't sure. The last thing I wanted to do was walk into a diner.

The others agreed heartily, so I kept my mouth shut and stared ahead as Ben pulled off the highway and toward a dingy looking cafe on the side of the road. Edward's arms had relaxed around my waist, but as we came to a halt they tightened, as if he didn't want to let go.

Eric was the first to get out. He ran toward the outside conveniences, cupping his groin with his right hand. Tyler laughed, ambling after him, running his hand through his tight, curly hair, before opening the door to the men's room. I slid from Edward's lap to the seat, my body aching from being in one position for too long. Edward reached down and rubbed his thighs.

"Did I send your legs to sleep?" I asked.

"Every cell in my body is wide awake," he replied, and I bit my lip in response. I wasn't practiced at flirting; every boy at Wentworth High knew that much. If I'd been Jessica Stanley I would have giggled and made a funny remark, then leaned over and rubbed his thighs myself. As it was, I scooted across the bench seat and climbed out of the door Tyler and Eric had recently vacated.

As soon as my feet were on solid ground, I knew I was going to throw up. My stomach hurt so bad, I didn't even consider how mortifying it was to run to the trees behind the diner and double-over, the scant contents of my stomach pebbling the floor.

"Oh, Bella, are you okay?" Angela walked up behind me, and I could feel her reluctantly stroke my hair. She was about as good with invalids as I was.

"Just ... a bit ... sick," I managed to get out. I was queen of the obvious.

"Edward!" she called. I closed my eyes with embarrassment. "You're a doctor, come and help me here."

"I'm no doctor." His honeyed voice was only a few feet away from us. "But I'll do what I can."

The next moment his cool hands were touching my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut. I hated him seeing me like this. "Do you feel hot?" he asked.

"There's a heat wave," I replied. "And I've been sitting on your lap for hours. Of course I feel hot." It took a moment for the alternate meaning of my words to sink in. I just about died of embarrassment.

"Let's try and cool you down, okay?" He hooked a hand under my arm and circled it around my back, lifting me onto the hood of a nearby abandoned, rusty car. Walking over to the side of the diner, to an outside faucet, he grabbed the hem of his white, cotton t-shirt and pulled it off. My mouth dropped open as I watched the muscles in his back ripple under his taut, tan skin. There wasn't an inch of fat on him. Naked from the waist up, he looked like some kind of demi-god.

He leaned down and turned on the tap, putting his white t-shirt under the flow of water, getting it good and wet before he wrung it out. Turning off the water, he walked back over. He sat beside me on the hood and started to dab my face with the moist cotton.

"Does that feel better?" His voice was soft. He moved the shirt downward, toward my throat, and his thumb brushed the skin just below my ear. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, or do anything other than submit to his touch.

Against my will, my gaze dropped to his bare chest. His pectoral muscles were firm and defined, his skin peppered with scant brown hair. His nipples were tight, and I wanted to run my fingers over them. I'd never seen a man's chest up close, let alone touched it before. I was starting to realize exactly why all the girls at school swooned when they talked about their boyfriend's bodies.

He was every inch a man. Beneath his chest, his stomach was tight and ridged, with a line of dark hair leading down to his thick, leather belt. There were two indentations where his hips ran into his pelvis, disappearing when they reached his jeans.

I wanted to see more.

"We're going to go on in," Angela shouted out from the other side of the dusty parking lot. "You want us to order you anything, Edward?"

"Grab me a Reuben or something, okay?" he shouted back, his eyes still regarding me warily. "And get a drink for Bella."

He touched his wet shirt to the top of my chest. For the first time, I wanted the cool, damp cloth to disappear, for it to be his skin against mine. I reached out and sunk my fingers into his hair, surprised at how soft his bronze mess felt against them.

"They're going to cut off your hair, you know, before basic training," I said sadly. It was stupid, since I'd only known him a matter of hours, but I was going to miss it.

"I know." His voice was somber, and he looked at me with concern. "Do you have someone over there, Bella?"

I shook my head, the lump in my throat returning. "My cousin Brady fought in Operation Cedar Falls. He died from blood loss." My eyes stung as I remembered the playful boy who used to throw me in the lake, and chase me around the shore until I bent over laughing. Now he was little more than a memory, buried under a white stone in Arlington Cemetery.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He sounded sincere, reaching out to capture the single tear that was running down my cheek. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

I shook my head. "You didn't. It's Lyndon Johnson's fault." As he leaned closer, his bare skin so close to me, I closed my eyes and prayed for help. I didn't want him to kiss me – not like this, with my mouth all dirty and my make-up smeared. When I finally had my first, real, grown-up kiss, I wanted it to be beneath a starry sky, with my beau in a dark tuxedo, wearing a tie that matched my corsage.

With a mouth tasting of mint.

More than anything, I wanted it to be Edward. The man who had sat patiently with me on his lap for hours. The one who volunteered in a dingy, unpaid clinic in Haight.

I wanted to kiss the lips of a man who would go and fight a war he didn't believe in because he belonged to a country that thought it was right.

"Bella?" He slid off the rusty hood, laying his t-shirt across it so the sun would bake it dry. "Do you feel up to going inside?" There were a couple of feet between us now and I missed the heat of his body next to mine.

I nodded. "I'll just go clean up first." Staring at his bare chest, I added, "I'm not sure they'll let you in without a top, though."

He looked down and laughed, eyes twinkling. "I guess I'd better grab my jacket. If I zip it up, nobody will know any better."

"If you zip it up, people will think you're crazy for wearing a coat in this heat," I remarked, walking past him as I headed for the outside bathroom.

"Maybe I _am_ crazy," he muttered. His voice was so low, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it.

~*CD*~

We were sitting in Buena Vista Park. The sun was almost at its summit, causing the grass to shimmer and shine like an oasis in the desert. The hot weather, combined with the number of bodies and the accompanying sound, made the field feel alive, like it was pulsing with blood. There was a sweet, smoky undercurrent to the gentle breeze; a fragrance I remembered from beneath the bleachers at high school on a Friday night when the dropouts made their own fun.

Edward sat opposite, leaning back on the grass, dark sunglasses shielding his eyes. He rolled a joint, lifting it to his full lips to light it, dragging it in and holding his breath for a moment before exhaling. His lips circled, so the smoke came out in rings. I watched as he passed the joint to Tyler, who almost snatched it away with eagerness.

Angela leaned across and grabbed my hand, squeezing tightly. "I know you like Edward," she whispered in my ear. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't bring myself to deny my feelings. "Just go for it, Bella. Live life a little. Whatever happens here, it's meant to be, okay?"

Ben raised his eyebrows at her, lunging forward and grabbing her waist. She squealed, her grin belying her protest, allowing Ben to pull her against his chest.

Eric was wandering around the park, taking photos and talking to different groups of people. I lay back on the grass, feeling sleepy, watching Edward Cullen smoke himself high.

"You want?" Tyler nudged me, offering the joint. I shook my head, trying to avoid his amused stare. I would be in enough trouble with Charlie without having illegal drug taking added to my list of misdemeanors.

"You never tried?" Edward leaned forward, lifting his sunglasses and resting them on his hair. I felt my stomach drop as I shook my head again.

Angela managed to disentangle herself from Ben. "Her dad's a cop. Nobody would give it to her if she begged them."

I looked away, embarrassed at my lack of experience. Reaching out, I picked a coarse blade of grass, rolling it between my fingers. The sweet fresh aroma wafted through the air.

"Makes us about even," Edward commented. "You with the cop father, me with the congressman."

I glanced up, and his eyes were still firmly on me. I gave him the faintest of smiles. In return he flashed me a brilliant grin.

"Hey, I managed to score some acid." Eric was slightly out of breath, as if he'd been running. He dropped down to the ground, joining our circle. Opening his hand, he revealed several tiny squares of white paper with colored pictures printed on them. "Anybody care to join me?"

I swallowed. This was getting out of hand. A little bit of weed was one thing, but LSD was a giant step up. If my dad ever found out, I'd be grounded for life.

"Not me," Edward replied, and I sighed with relief.

"I need to drive later, man. You go ahead." Ben shrugged, before turning back to Angela.

I watched with interest as Eric placed the tab under his tongue, closing his mouth to let it dissolve. I'd heard about LSD before, but I'd never had the chance to experience its effects first hand.

"What's it like?" I was staring at Eric with interest.

He shook his head. "It takes half an hour or so to kick in. I'll tell you then." He sounded funny, talking with his tongue down. Edward and Tyler started to laugh and I raised my eyes to the sky.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me, Bella?" Edward asked, his own lids narrowing.

I swallowed the laugh that wanted to escape. "A couple of drags and you're both acting like children," I replied, deadpan. "Forgive me if I find it amusing."

Edward stood up and walked over, reaching down to grab my hand. Pulling me up to standing, he kept one palm wrapped around mine, using the other to lift the joint to his mouth. I could feel my heart beat faster as he wrapped his lips around the paper. His chest expanded as he inhaled another toke.

This time, instead of blowing smoke rings, he leaned his head down until his face was right in front of mine. Placing his soft, gentle lips against my dry ones, he blew the smoke into my mouth, his eyes still boring into mine.

My heart clattered against my chest. I didn't want to inhale. I just wanted him to kiss me.

"Breathe, Bella," he murmured against my lips. I did as I was told, feeling the smoke burn at my throat on its way down to my lungs. I tried not to cough against Edward's face as it went.

He let me pull away to exhale, his eyes lowering until they blazed a hole in my chest. My skin was hot and flushed; glistening in the afternoon sun. I wanted to fan myself like a southern belle.

"Come here." Edward wrapped his arms around me, dropping the joint and grinding it beneath his foot. He pulled me against him, his face inches from my own. He hesitated for a moment before dipping his head to kiss me. His lips moved against mine, insistent and warm, the sensation making me dizzy. His hands came around to cup my face, his tongue running a thin, hot line along my bottom lip. He touched the tip against my own, and I shivered, the sensation of our open-mouthed kiss bringing my body to life.

My fingers curled into his hair, and I remembered how soft and silky it was. I tugged, and he moaned, reaching down to cup my ass.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. I pulled him closer, desperate to feel every part of him. He moved his lips across my jaw, his breath hot against my skin, sucking at the sensitive flesh below my ear.

Everything in my body exploded. My nipples hardened, my legs turned to jelly, my breathing became strangled and raw.

I'd read enough books to know what lust was and how it was supposed to feel. But reading it in black and white was nothing compared to experiencing, and I surprised myself with my fevered response. I wasn't sure if it was a result of the second-hand weed, or just the effect Edward Cullen was having on me. It was probably a bit of both.

Either way I was desperate for more.

I let go of his hair, running my hands down the sinewy muscles of his back. Hesitating at the dip of his ass, I moved them down to cup him, grinding him against me. _Where the hell was this coming from?_

The hard ridge of his excitement dug into my hip, making my eyes fly open with shock. I squeezed my hands tighter, eliciting another moan from his sweet lips.

"It's a good job we're surrounded by people," he whispered against my neck. "Otherwise I'd pay you back for that."

I pulled back a little, looking up at him with a smile. The sounds of the park came whooshing back through my ears, reminding me we weren't alone. Reaching out my hand, I grabbed the sunglasses from his head, putting them over my face so he could no longer see my eyes. I felt better behind them, like I was behind a barrier or a screen.

All the better to hide my embarrassment.

"Wow, Bella, you look all dreamy," Eric commented, his eyes dark as he stared at us. "Every time you two kiss I see so many colors."

"Acid head," Edward commented, lifting his head up to flash me a grin. We sat down together to watch Eric make an idiot of himself as he held his hand in front of his eyes, moving it slowly in the air and following it with his gaze. Edward reached across and took his sunglasses back, sliding them up his nose. My hand, meanwhile, remained wrapped in his. My breath stuttered as his thumb made lazy circles on my skin.

"Everybody's so beautiful," Eric sighed, removing his gaze from his hand. "Bella, you're absolutely gorgeous, I can't understand why I've never told you this before."

I started to giggle and found I couldn't stop, amusement holding my body ransom as I took in the absurdity of the situation. We were all high in one form or another, but Eric was taking the biscuit with his nonsensical droning.

Edward chuckled beside me and pulled me into his arms, lying back on the grass so my head rested in his crook. I closed my eyes and let the sun bake my skin, trying to enjoy the moment. We lay like that for long minutes, my head rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath.

* * *

**A/N **Thank you SO MUCH for all your reviews, I loved each and every one of them. So many of you had such interesting stories about the sixties - please keep them coming!

Fran, Mid, Sparrow and Pates have supported me throughout this fic. I'm so grateful for their hard work.

Mariahajile - you are a sweet friend, thank you.

Special shout out to Midnight Cougar for featuring California Dreamin' on the Rob Attack blog. You put a great big smile on my face.

Fancy a chat? I'm on twitter and facebook - the linkie things are on my profile.

See you next week, Choc xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"What are you doing, Eric?" Angela's voice had an edge that made my eyelids flicker open. Eric was kneeling over me, his too-black pupils about a foot from my face, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Bella," he stage-whispered, and I felt Edward flex his hand over mine. "The bugs are all over your face."

"Oh, my God!" I sat up and slapped at my cheeks, wondering how the hell any insects had crawled across me without feeling them. Had we laid down in an ant nest? I tipped my head and looked up at Eric, who glanced back at me fearfully.

"Have they gone?" I asked him, trying not to scream.

He shook his head frantically. "They're still there, Bella. They're going to eat you if you don't get them off."

Edward sat up beside me, his hands tense against my waist. "Stay calm," he whispered in my ear. Then loudly, he said, "Eric, I'll deal with the bugs. Go and sit down."

"I can't, they're going to eat us all. I have to kill them!" Eric screamed, lunging forward to dig his fingernails into the soft skin of my cheeks. They gouged and pulled at the flesh until all I could feel was searing pain.

The shouting grew louder as Eric pulled at me, his body surprisingly strong as he lunged at my face. I felt powerless to do anything but scream, my body thrashing as the intense pain ripped through my flesh.

"Get him off her!" Angela screeched, pulling at Eric's arm. Edward grabbed Eric's wrists, trying to pull him away.

"Let go, Eric." Edward's voice was reassuring, but I could detect a frantic undercurrent. "I've got some special spray that will kill the bugs ... just let her go."

The tight hold Eric had on my face loosened, and Tyler pulled him away, his hands firmly wrapped around his chest as he dragged Eric across the field. Angela started to cry, and I could feel my own eyes sting as I tried to work out what the heck just happened.

"Oh Bella, your face." She was crying harder now, brushing her fingers against my cheek. When she pulled her hand back, the tips were covered in blood. Edward knelt in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders as he scanned my skin.

"How do you feel?" His face was somber.

I shook my head. I wasn't sure how to quantify the emotions that were pulsing through my veins. I'd believed Eric, when he told me there were bugs on my face. It was only when I heard Edward's outwardly calm voice that I understood something was wrong. I was angry with myself for not realizing sooner, and even angrier with Eric for taking the acid in the first place.

"We need to get you to the clinic." He curled his arm around my waist, his hand reassuring on my back. "Those wounds need cleaning."

I stood up shakily, allowing him to steady me, and glanced across at Eric. He was screaming and shouting at Tyler, who was holding him in a tight grip, trying to restrain him. Edward rubbed my back and leaned in closer.

"We need to get Eric to the clinic, too. He's having a bad trip."

I didn't need to ask what one of those was. It was clear he was freaking out.

Edward conferred with Ben and Angela, and they walked over to help Tyler drag Eric out of the park. Then he scooped me up into his arms, carrying me across the grass as if my weight was nothing, heading toward the western exit of the park.

"I can walk, you know," I pointed out, trying not to stare at his beautiful face. "He gouged my face, not my legs."

"Last time I looked those legs were pretty unsteady," Edward remarked. "Humor me, okay?"

My cheeks were burning, the dull ache turning into a stabbing pain under the heat of the sun. I lifted my hand to my face and winced.

"It's only a couple blocks. We'll get you fixed up in no time."

"I don't know what I'm gonna tell my dad." My stomach contracted at the thought of it. "How bad does it look?"

His eyebrows dipped with concern. "It'll look better when you're all cleaned up. They're just flesh wounds, easily healed." He moistened his dry lips with the tip of his tongue.

"I can't understand how he got so deep. His nails must be made of diamonds or something." I curled my arms around Edward's neck. He tightened his hold, my body crushed against his chest.

"He thought he was helping, believe it or not. In Eric's mind there really were insects on your face."

"He thought they were going to eat me." Now I wanted to laugh, despite the pain. I was a hot mess of emotions, all bundled up in Edward's arms. It felt so right, being held by him.

We made it to the clinic pretty fast. It was housed in an old Victorian building, the grey stucco peeling from the walls. An oval sign proclaimed its presence, and Edward slowly lowered me to the ground in front, pushing open the door and leading me inside.

It took a couple of minutes for the others to catch up. Dragging Eric up the street had been harder than we'd envisioned, and Tyler was rubbing his leg where Eric had managed to get a few kicks in.

He was still screaming, his face screwed up in fear. Edward pulled me close to him, tucking me into his side as if afraid that Eric would lash out at me again.

"Can I help?" A harassed-looking guy with short dark hair walked out of one of the side rooms. His face lit up in recognition. "Hey, Edward, what are you doing here?"

Edward pointed over at Eric, who was still struggling against Tyler's strong arms. "Bad trip."

"You know better than that." The man smiled. "What's the medical condition?"

Edward returned his grin, running his hand through his hair. His other was still wrapped around my waist. "Psychedelic Crisis, Doctor Smith. He thinks there are bugs crawling on Bella's face. He tried to gouge them out."

"Okay, let's get him to a room; I'll see if I can talk him down without sedation." He turned to look at me. "Are you tripping, too?"

I shook my head.

"Edward, you can take her to room two and clean her up, okay?"

He led me down a dark, painted corridor, pushing open the door to Clinic 2. Once inside he seated me on the bed, before washing his hands at the sink in the corner. He opened the medical cabinet, taking out some bottles and wipes.

"I'm just going to clean up the wounds for now," he explained, pulling up a chair to sit in front of me. "It's probably going to sting."

Opening the bottle, he poured liquid onto a swab and proceeded to brush it across my cheek. He wasn't kidding; it stung like hell, but watching the way he screwed up his face in concentration helped to take the pain away. His dedication made me feel liquid inside.

"You're very well," I remarked, as he put a blood-stained gauze pad into a kidney dish, before picking up a fresh strip of fabric. "You really should think about doing this for a living."

He laughed at my attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll bear that in mind. And thank you," he glanced up, caressing me with his stare, "I find medicine fascinating."

_I find you fascinating_, I thought, and then tried to quash my own, embarrassing mind. I didn't need any more blood rushing to my cheeks.

When he finished, Edward pulled me up from the bed, and walked me across the room, where a large mirror hung from rusty nails. "Are you ready to take a look?" he asked, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders.

"I guess." I wasn't sure if I was ready or not, but I knew I'd have to face Charlie tomorrow. It was better to know exactly how serious the damage was. I looked up into the glass, my eyes catching Edward's briefly as he stood behind me. He squeezed my shoulders, and I swallowed, finally letting my gaze fall on my own reflection.

It wasn't so bad.

I let out a relieved sigh and smiled. I was pleased the wounds on my face were little more than scratches. A couple of them had gone deeper into the skin, but on the whole I looked as though I'd been in a cat fight, rather than lunged at by a psychotic, drug-fueled friend.

"A little make-up and nobody will know any better," Edward said, his voice low. "Not that you need it, you're naturally beautiful." His eyes burned a trail across my face. I was like a moth, fluttering around his flame. I wanted to burn.

"You think I'm beautiful?" I tried not to smile, but the happiness was threatening to burst out of me. I wanted to sing and dance, maybe star in my own musical. I was Doris Day, and he was Rock Hudson.

"No." His momentary denial caused my soaring heart to fall. "I _know_ you're beautiful." He turned me around until I faced him. His lips were parted and his eyes intense, making my breath catch in my throat. "And I'd really like to kiss you again, if that's all right with you."

"You _have_ tended to me twice in one day," I agreed, reaching out a finger to trace his jaw line. "It would be churlish of me not to show some gratitude."

"I'm very grateful for your gratitude," he murmured, his head tilting. His mouth was inches from mine.

"I'm pleased, you're pleased," I responded, enjoying the buildup, the teasing.

"It makes me happy, you're happy." He moved closer, so his lips barely touched mine. "Now hush."

I closed my eyes, my toes curling in anticipation. His hand wrapped around my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, making my breath escape in a warm rush. I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, and smell the sweet aroma of his breath. His hesitation made me want to grab hold and force myself on him, devouring him the way I wanted to be consumed.

"Bella ..." He touched his lips to mine. They were soft at first, then deeper and rougher. I opened my mouth and let him in, his tongue determined, probing against me, causing pleasure to shoot straight down to my thighs.

I grabbed his behind again; braver than before, certain I wanted to feel the effect I had on him. Arching, I pushed my chest against his, sensitive nipples grazing the fabric of my bra.

Edward groaned and held me closer still, our bodies grinding together. His hand brushed along my side, knuckles grazing the edge of my breast, making my nipples pebble in anticipation. I broke away, gasping for air, my lips pulling up as he moved his mouth to my neck, sucking at the tender flesh.

He moved his hand up to cup my breast. "Is this okay?" His eyes darted to mine. I nodded mutely, barely able to breathe, let alone speak. My nipple strained against his hand, digging in to the fabric barrier, making my need known. His thumb circled, moving closer, not near enough, and I arched again, a moan escaping my lips.

He captured them with his own, silencing me, and I pushed myself against him. My body was needy, desperate to feel him, my thighs clenching together as I felt myself soar.

I could feel him digging into my groin; hard and ridged. Rocking against him, I was surprised by my own wanton desire. I'd gone from nothing to everything in less than a day. It wouldn't have shocked me if I returned home to Wentworth minus my virginity.

"We need to stop," he whispered, his voice halfway between a breath and a moan. "_I_ need to stop."

"Don't stop," I begged, causing another groan to escape from his mouth. I was drowning in sensation.

His lips lingered on mine a moment longer, as if he was afraid to let go. I let my eyes flicker open, drowning in his heated stare. My hands were still clasping his ass like a desperate woman. That's how he made me feel.

Like a woman.

He pulled away, stepping back and running his right hand through his hair. It was messy and out of place, and I remembered in a couple of months, it would all be shaved off.

I hated that.

His lips glistened from my tongue, his face pink from arousal. I was hot and bothered myself, panting out breaths and restraining myself from lunging at him.

"Wow." He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

I grinned back, patting my hair down, wondering if it was as messy as his. We knew we needed to leave; the clinic wasn't exactly giving rooms away, but I felt strangely reluctant to go. I felt so different from the Bella Swan who had woken up that morning; older, wiser, more sensual. I feared leaving the clinic was one step closer to returning to Wentworth and the Bella I used to be. It wasn't that I disliked myself, though there were aspects I was none too fond of, but now I'd experienced life like this, I didn't want to look back.

And I didn't want to let Edward Cullen go.

~*CD*~

Ben dropped us at Angela's just before seven that evening. The sun was an orange ball of fire, free-falling in the sky, and I let Edward Cullen run his lips all over my neck and chest. He murmured sweet promises against my skin, his voice so low I could barely hear, and I closed my eyes and pictured long, hot summer nights filled with nothing but his kisses.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, finally pulling away when Ben tooted the horn. He'd promised his mom he'd have her car back before dark.

"Okay." I smiled shyly, letting my hand linger in his as he backed away, eyes still staring intently at me.

I walked home the next afternoon, letting my hand trail along bushes and fences, smelling the soft fragrance of lilacs. The cruiser was parked in the driveway; flashing lights stilled, engine dulled, but nevertheless it caused my heart to beat faster. I rehearsed the story in my head; Angela's neighbor had a new kitten, I was playing with it, unaware of the tiny claws scratching through soft flesh, tearing skin, making welts.

We didn't lock the door, didn't need to, so I pushed down the tarnished brass handle and walked inside, smelling the smoky-hot aroma of steak barbecuing on the grill. My dad was just outside the French doors, standing on the patio, a can of Schlitz in one hand, tongs in the other. I must have been quieter than I intended, and when I walked outside I made him jump.

"What the —" He stopped speaking as soon as he saw my face. I lifted my fingers to my cheeks, feeling the raised skin beneath my tips.

"Hi, Dad." I smiled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. I wanted to be nonchalant, as though nothing had happened.

Like my world hadn't just turned upside down.

"What happened to your face, Bella?" His lips turned down beneath his mustache.

"Mrs. Jackson got a new cat. I was playing with it, and it got a little excited." I swallowed, wondering whether saying any more would bring attention to my lies.

"Vicious more like," Dad muttered. "Who the hell is Mrs. Jackson?"

"Angela's neighbor. She only got the kitten yesterday; it was my fault for riling him up." I could feel myself blush. I was a horrible liar.

"You get it looked at? Cats can carry nasty diseases." He turned his attention back to the grill, lifting the steaks off and placing them on a plate. The juices leaked out of them like water from a saturated sponge.

"One of Angela's friends is a med student. He cleaned it up for me." It was only a half-lie. For some reason, that made me feel better.

"Angela should know better than to be hanging around with college students," Dad remarked, dousing the grill with his beer.

I laughed in spite of myself. "Angela and I are going to _be_ college students ourselves next month; did you want us to avoid everyone at school?" I picked up the plates and carried them over to the wooden table, placing them down on the scratched surface. Dad hadn't set it, so I walked back into the house, grabbing some cutlery and a can of Coke. Just as I was about to walk out, I turned around and picked up the evening paper, taking it over to my father.

"I know that, Bella. I'd rather not be reminded of it though, if it's all the same to you. You could cost me my appetite."

"Well, in this case we were lucky Edward was around. He saved you a bill from the doctor." I passed Dad the salt, watching as he poured it liberally over his fillet.

"Edward, you say? Have I heard of him before?"

I shook my head. "He's staying with the Cheneys." They lived one town across, in a huge house Angela described as a mansion. His father was a captain of industry.

"Hmm." Dad finished his steak and picked up the paper, the rustling of the pages signaling the discussion was over.

For once I was glad.

* * *

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews - I hope I replied to most of them. If for any reason I missed you, please know that I loved reading every one.  
**

**SunflowerFran betas, and Mid, Sparrow and Pates pre-read. Thank you guys for your support.**

**The sun is shining here, making us all very happy. I hope your week is just as good.  
**

**Choc xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next day was a Saturday, and my father was home until the evening. We spent the morning doing yard work; weeding the borders, cutting the grass and trying to make it look pretty. By mid-afternoon he was getting antsy from being cooped up in the garden, and left for the river, planning to spend some time with his fishing pole before starting work.

Once he was gone, I put on my black swimsuit, grabbing an old, dog-eared copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_. I didn't like Holden Caulfield much, but the descriptions of New York and his checking-out from school were somehow compelling. I was so absorbed I barely noticed the shadows creeping up the lawn until my stomach started to rumble, signalling dinner time.

The telephone rang as I rummaged through the cupboards, surveying the contents and running through menus in my mind. The shrill bell pierced through the quiet of the kitchen.

I walked over and lifted it from the wall, putting the yellow, plastic receiver to my ear as I played with the chord in my free hand. "Hello?"

"Whatcha up to, sweet girl?"

"Hey Ange, I'm making dinner. You?" I walked over to the cupboard again, dragging the extra-long chord behind me.

A sudden memory of my mother flashed through my mind. She used to pace the room as she spoke into the phone, a small 'v' furrowing her brow. I'd sit at the table, my legs swinging from the chair as I watched her. That must have been years ago—she died when I was four. Most days I barely thought of her.

"I'm inviting you to the drive-in." I could hear Mrs. Weber speaking softly in the background. "Apparently, there's a really good movie showing."

I paused for a moment, pulling a box of _Kraft Spaghetti Dinner_ down from the shelf. "Who goes to the drive-in to watch the movie, Angela?"

We'd agreed the drive-in was lame before we even left junior high. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been there. Kids our age only went to make out or light up, and I hadn't had much call to do either of those things.

Angela laughed. "_Barefoot in the Park_ is on."

I sighed, shaking the box. The package rattled inside the cardboard. "We saw that movie last month. You said you hated Neil Simon plays, why would we pay to go and see that again?"

"Humor me." It was the way she said it that made my eyes shoot wide open. Her words reminded me of Edward, of the way he carried me across Buena Vista Park. A sudden desperate pang bubbled in my stomach.

"Angela, do I need to ask you 'yes and no' questions?" This was a game we played a lot, depending on whose parents were around. My dad might have thought Mrs. Weber permissive, but she could be conservative where boys were concerned.

"Yes," Angela deadpanned.

"Okay. Are we going alone?"

"Yes ... well no, ... sort of."

Her answer confused me. We were going alone, but we weren't. I sucked at this game. I twirled the telephone lead around my index finger, trying to think of my next question.

A sudden flash of inspiration came to mind. "Are we meeting someone there?"

"Yes." Her answer was emphatic. I could feel my heart start to beat faster.

"Are we meeting _boys_ there?" I was dragging it out now, and Angela knew it. I tried to bite down my smile.

"Yeeessss." Her voice was almost a hiss. My body heated up as I realized exactly who we'd be meeting at the drive in.

"Angela ..."

"Bella …"

"Are we meeting Ben there?"

"Yes." She almost squealed. I chuckled down the mouthpiece.

"Is he bringing anyone?"

_Please God let him bring someone_.

"Of course, I'd hate for you to sit at the drive-in all alone."

That made _me_ squeal. I jumped up and down on the tiled floor. The blood raced through my veins, making my body tingle like I'd touched an electric fence.

"I'll pick you up at seven thirty. Bring a blanket." There was amusement in her voice.

"I just need to call my dad. If you don't hear from me, I'm in." He was on the late shift tonight, but sometimes he would drive past the house and check I was okay. Knowing my luck, this would be one of those nights.

Fortunately, he was busy when I called, his mind occupied elsewhere. He asked me a couple of cursory questions before acquiescing, telling me to be home before midnight. I agreed readily, unable to believe my luck. My heart beat a little too fast, my breath was a little too labored. If Edward Cullen had that effect on me without even being near, God only knew how I'd be when I saw him in person.

Angela arrived just before quarter to eight, pulling up outside my house in her mom's old brown station wagon. She tooted the horn in an attempt to make me jump. I gathered up my purse and picked up the dusty, old blanket I'd found at the back of our linen closet.

She peered over her cat-eye glasses, nose wrinkling as she scrutinized the plaid pattern.

"I told you to bring a blanket, not a relic from Custer's Last Stand." She waved her hand at the blanket disdainfully. Her new, polyester blanket lay across the back seat, lurid in its green intensity. I covered it with my own, biting down a grin when I saw a grimace tug at her lips.

When we pulled up to the faded wooden box office, the sun was low in the sky, turning the trees on the horizon into a stark black against the backdrop of pink and orange. We handed over our three dollars, made up of various coins. The cashier nodded and Angela inched the car forward.

We scanned the lot for Ben's familiar, green Chevy, our eyes wide and intense. The lot was only half full, the bare, muddy spaces almost outnumbering the autos, and we easily spotted it parked on the far right-hand side of the field. Angela drove carefully, the gravel-covered path crunching under the car's heavy wheels. I felt my stomach fill with nerves and trepidation, my previous excitement buried under the fear.

"What if he doesn't like me?" I voiced my worries out loud.

Angela chuckled. "Of course he likes you. Ben said he hasn't stopped asking after you."

Her words weren't enough to calm me as she swung the car into the empty space alongside Ben. As we opened the doors, the aroma of cut-grass and gasoline invaded my senses, reminding me of the times my daddy used to bring me to the movies. I'd curl up in the backseat, buried under a pile of blankets and fall asleep halfway through.

The memory warmed my heart.

They were both leaning on the hood of Ben's El Camino. I watched as Edward raised a cigarette to his lips, curling them around the tip to inhale deeply. His eyes closed as he let the smoke wander through his mouth. When he exhaled, the blue-grey mist danced in front of his lips, and I wanted to capture it with my own.

"Hey." Ben finally noticed us and pushed himself away from his metallic rest. His Keds crunched as he walked across the gravel. Edward glanced at me through heavy lids, his lips full and red. He raised a finger, crooking it to gesture me over.

My feet obeyed before I had time to think it through. I looked down, watching them move across the pebble-covered grass. It was impossible to meet his gaze, even though I could feel the blaze of his stare burning my skin. I stopped when I was a few feet away from him, pushing at the ground with the toe of my pump.

"Bella." His voice was soft, and against my will I looked up. He dropped his cigarette, grinding it beneath his shoe. Clearing the three feet between us, he leaned down to brush his lips against my cheek.

I wanted to curl my hands around his neck and drag him toward me.

I wanted to devour his lips with my own.

I wanted.

A station wagon pulled up on the other side of our car, the windows wide open. "Daydream Believer" was blaring through the speaker of the car stereo. The three children crammed into the backseat stared at us with open mouths.

"You wanna get some popcorn or something?" Edward gave the kids a sidelong glance. They giggled and turned away, their attention already shifting to the play park just in front of the movie screen. I followed their gaze, remembering how I used to swing so high when I was a kid, that I thought I might fly off and hit the huge screen. I'd wanted to launch myself into the middle of a movie.

"Sounds good," I agreed.

Angela and Ben were whispering in front of her mom's car, his hand wrapped around her waist. I tipped my head toward the concession stand. She nodded and wiggled her fingers in an 'off you go' gesture.

The drive-in was mostly populated with families. Some of them were sitting in fold-up garden chairs, their coolers filled with picnics and beers. The movie trailers hadn't even started yet; just the adverts were rolling, the screen fuzzy under the reflection of the waning daylight. We walked toward the stands, our fingers grazing as we swung our arms. It made me shiver.

"Bella Swan." I looked up to see Jessica Stanley leaning on the concession stand, her stomach disappointingly flat. I wondered if a little baby was kicking away in there. "What did you do to your face?"

"Nothing much," I replied dismissively. She ignored me and stared open-mouthed at Edward, pushing out her ample bosom and flashing him a flirtatious grin.

"And who is this, a cousin of yours?" She reached out a hand, holding it in the air and waiting for Edward to take it. He glanced at her with amusement.

"This is Edward," I replied, silently begging him not to take her fingers.

"Who's Edward?" A deeper voice emanated from the side of the wooden stand. Mike Newton walked around the corner wearing bell-bottomed jeans and a psychedelic shirt. He looked like an extra from the Sergeant Pepper album.

I sighed. It was just my luck that they'd be here tonight.

"I'm Bella's boyfriend." Edward's response was firm, and he looped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. I wanted to jump up and wrap myself around him with gratitude when I saw Jessica's disbelieving stare.

"Bella has a boyfriend?" Jessica sneered, and I stepped back, wanting to put some distance between us. "Oh, my God, wonders will never cease."

"Speaking of which, I hear you've some rather wonderful news yourself." A familiar, dry voice came from behind me. Angela walked up and patted Jessica's stomach, and I wanted to laugh out loud. "When are you making an honest woman of her, Mikey?"

Mike looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. We all knew it was more than his hand he'd been sticking in Jessica's cookie jar. "I ... umm ..." It was fun to see Mike speechless. It almost made up for eight years of being an asshole.

Edward reached the front of the line, ordering a large carton of buttered popcorn and two bottles of Coke. He dropped a straw inside one and passed it to me, lifting the other to his lips and taking a sip. We waited for Angela and Ben to grab their food before wandering back to the cars, avoiding the children playing tag in the road ahead.

Angela grabbed my arm as we walked, pulling me back from the boys. "I'm going in Ben's car, and you're in mine, okay? We meet back at my place before midnight."

"You're letting me drive your mom's car?" She never had a good word to say about my driving.

"Noooo." She let the word drag out, whistling through her teeth. "I'm letting Edward drive my mom's car. You can ride shotgun." Her expression left me no room to protest. I didn't even try. The thought of watching his strong hands grasping the wheel, maybe driving to the lake on our way home, was enough to render me silent.

The trailers had started by the time we got back to the cars. Edward put the popcorn on the roof of the Ford then pulled at the speaker. Untangling it from the peeling green post, he hooked it on the front door. The kids in the road stopped playing and turned silent as a _Disney_ trailer came on. A giant cartoon bear started singing and dancing with a half-naked child.

That was a film I'd be happy to miss.

I climbed into the car and pulled the door shut behind me, watching as Edward did the same.

From the corner of my eye I could see Ben reversing his El Camino. I wondered if they were finding another space, or leaving altogether. I didn't really care.

"You want some popcorn?" Edward offered me the carton. I dipped my hand in, kernels spilling over the side and on the floor around my feet. He leaned down and picked them up, flinging them out of the window onto the grass.

"Your face looks as though it's healing well." He leaned forward and scrutinized my skin, reaching out his fingers to tip my head so he could see it in the glow of the screen. "Have you heard how Eric's doing?"

"He called me last night at Angela's," I replied, trying to keep breathing while his fingers caressed my cheeks. "He's feeling a little stupid."

"He _is_ a little stupid." Edward released my face, and I felt strangely sad. "He should know better than to dabble in that shit."

"It's a government invention. It's all their fault." My lips curled into a smile.

"So Ken Kesey says. I reckon that's just a god-awful excuse for the quality of his writing."

"You've read _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_?" I asked, watching as his long fingers curled around the popcorn carton.

"I tried." He threw a handful of kernels into his mouth. "He's no Kerouac."

"Kerouac isn't really my thing, I'd much rather read Salinger or Capote." I was showing off, trying to appear more cultured than I was. He didn't seem to notice.

Edward shrugged. "I like them, too." He offered me the carton again. I shook my head. "There isn't much I don't like, unless it's almost unreadable."

"Like Kerouac?" I replied archly.

He smiled and looked away, his eyes glancing at the screen. Jane Fonda appeared in full Technicolor glory, followed by a stiffly attired Robert Redford.

Jane and Robert started to argue about his stuffy ways.

"Would you walk barefoot in the park?" I asked Edward. He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes.

"Only if I wanted to get dog shit on my toes."

I laughed loudly. He watched me for a moment, a smile playing on his lips. I wanted to reach out and touch them, to see if they were as soft as I remembered.

His stare lasted longer than was polite, and I could feel my cheeks heat up as I looked straight back at him. My lips parted, and my chest rose rapidly as my heartbeat raced. In the dark gloom of the car, he looked almost ethereal.

"Hey," he whispered. His eyes were intense.

"Hey," I replied, biting down on my lip. He reached out and slung his arm over my shoulder, pulling me against his side. The hand brake dug into my thigh. His fingers curled against my neck, thumb stroking my skin.

The sensation was amazing and maddening.

"Are you watching this?" he asked, inclining his head toward the screen.

"No."

Edward leaned forward and unhooked the speaker, reaching to put it back on the stand. His long fingers turned the car key, his foot pressing down on the gas. The engine roared to life, and he slowly pulled out of our parking space.

I hesitated, wondering what would happen next. Edward drove across to the tree line, backing the station wagon into the deserted part of the drive-in. He flicked the switch on the shiny radio. The Doors' "Light My Fire"cut through the silence, the extended organ solo making the atmosphere seem wistful. I waited for Jim Morrison's voice to kick in.

We looked at each other, silent but for the music. I listened to the words, feeling them caress my skin, my heart tapping out a rhythm in time to the drum.

_"The time to hesitate is through ..." _

My brain was working overtime, trying to analyze what was happening between us. My need to know overrode my embarrassment.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?" His voice so close.

"Did you … um, mean what you said to Jessica and Mike? About being …"

"... Your boyfriend?" he finished.

"Yeah." I finally looked up to see him smiling at me. There were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. I wanted to run my lips over them.

"I meant it."

Edward leaned forward, fingers curling around my neck. He pulled me toward him, our faces close enough to touch until we met in a clash of lips.

_"No time to wallow in the mire ..." _

I twisted my hips so I could face him, pulling one knee beneath me, the other leg braced against the floor. I grabbed his neck, tugging at his hair where it curled over his collar. He moaned as I kissed him back.

I wasn't wallowing in the mire, I was drowning.

His hand grasped my hip, gently pushing me back onto the seat, my body succumbing to his greater weight. His hand caressed my waist over my blouse, nails digging into my skin.

"Shit." He suddenly pulled back. A little 'v' formed between his brows as he stared down at the hand brake, right where his groin had been. I tried not to laugh, guessing he'd injured himself somewhere sensitive.

"Should we sit in the back?" I surprised myself with my own bravado. "There are fewer hazards back there."

Edward nodded his agreement, climbing through the gap between the front seats. Once he was through, he reached forward to help me clamber over. He kept his hand firmly on mine, turning me until my body lay on the seat beneath him.

I could feel every inch of him pressed against me. His weight anchored me, as he leaned forward and placed his lips on my neck. Sucking gently, he scraped his teeth against my skin. Small sighs escaped my lips as he moved his mouth toward mine.

He kissed me again, this time softly, his tongue glancing along my lip. I opened my mouth, inviting him in, caressing his bristled cheek with my hand.

"Can I touch your skin?" His hand hesitated at my waist, and I could feel his fingers tug at my blouse. I was desperate to feel him against me, and I nodded, wriggling my hips. His fingers pushed under my blouse, stroking the soft skin of my waist, causing goose bumps to pucker my flesh. He danced it up my torso until he reached my bra. Our lips moved frantically as we kissed.

"So soft," he murmured, brushing his lips against the corner of my mouth. I arched my back, pushing myself against him, feeling his pelvis grind against me. "Can I …?" His fingers played against my bra strap, begging entrance.

I breathed out a moany "yes." His fingers moved up, and I squeezed my eyes shut, letting him push my bra down until my breasts were exposed. He rubbed his thumbs over my nipples until they pebbled. I moaned louder, feeling pleasure shoot down between my thighs. Bucking my body against him, we created a desperate rhythm.

His mouth worked against mine, his tongue grazing my teeth. I curled my fingers in his hair, twisting, making him gasp. His breath was warm against my lips. He was lying between my thighs, his jean-clad hips rocking into me. Steel-hard thigh muscles strained against the thin fabric of my pants, scraping my inner-thighs. Pulses of ecstasy stabbed my core, as he pushed his hardness against me. I loosened my hold on his hair, moving my hands down to his behind, digging them into his firm skin.

"Bella ..." His moan was stifled by my lips. I rocked myself against him, breaking our kiss to gasp for air. The car windows were fogged, thin rivulets of water running down them as we breathed hotly. A ball of fire burned inside me, the sparks making me gasp. My head dropped back onto the car seat. I felt crazy, and sensitized, my skin tingling like I'd walked into a forest of poison ivy.

"Oh!" My eyes flew open as he pinched a nipple between his forefinger and thumb. The ball of fire between my legs exploded into an inferno, the pleasure making me buck beneath him. I started to yell, but he silenced me with his lips. His body pushed down, and he groaned deeply, his hips stilling between my thighs. Grinding his pelvis into mine, his hardness pressed against my sensitive core, causing a wave of delight to wash over me.

Bright flashes blinded my eyes. My body clenched repeatedly as I moaned.

His mouth absorbed my ecstasy.

Edward's weight on me was reassuring as I came down. I dipped my head to his shoulder, embarrassed at my reaction to him, and the way I wantonly responded to his touch. If I had the strength to go to church on Sunday, I was pretty sure God would send down a bolt of lightning to burn away my sins. My face was heated, and I glanced down at my legs, trying not to remember just how loudly I moaned.

Edward put a finger under my chin, tipping it up so he could see my expression. He was smiling at me, his eyes burning, and he kissed me before pushing up to sit back on his knees. His hand reached out and grabbed mine, pulling me up until our faces were just inches apart.

"You are the most beguiling girl I've ever met." His words warmed my heart as my actions froze my soul.

"Look at me." His words were commanding. I raised my gaze, catching his dark eyes. "I'm sorry if I pushed you too far."

"You didn't. I just wasn't expecting ... that." I couldn't even bring myself to say it. I was no poster child for free love.

"Nor was I," he admitted, "but it might have been the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He uncurled his legs from under him, moving until he could brush his lips against mine. "I want to make you do that every day … maybe twice a day. It was perfect."

I blushed again, this time more in pleasure than embarrassment. He pulled me to his side, tucking my head into the crook of his arm, and we watched the big screen as a giant Robert Redford staggered drunkenly around Washington Park, his feet bare and his suit askew.

He looked about as composed as I felt.

* * *

**A/N Many thanks to SunflowerFran, Midnight Cougar, SparrowNotes24 and Pates Greeneyes for all their work and support. **

**Lots of love to all of you for your kind reviews and messages. You all make my day.**

**Fancy a chat? I'm chocaholic12345 on twitter and Chocaholic Fanfic on Facebook. I also have a facebook group where everybody over 18 is very welcome.**

**Thanks for reading and see you next week, Choc xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next morning I passed my father on the stairs, flattening myself against the wall as he walked up. His feet dragged across the carpeted steps with exhaustion. He held his cap in his hand, curled beneath his sweaty palm, and reached his other out to stroke my head.

"Morning, pumpkin. How was your night?"

"Hi Daddy, it was good." I willed the blood not to rush to my cheeks, but like the Benedict Arnold of fluids, it pooled high on my face. It was my version of Pinocchio's nose.

"Something you want to tell me?" He pinched my cheek, and I pulled away.

I shook my head. "No."

"Hmmm." He rubbed my skin then walked up the final steps, heading for his room. I touched my palm to my face, feeling the fire warm my hand. I really needed to get that under control.

I was used to making my own entertainment when my father worked nights, but today Angela couldn't make it to the lake, and I didn't want to go alone. Edward was spending the day in San Francisco, helping out at the free clinic, which was always overrun on a Saturday. I whiled the morning away finishing chores; filling the top-loader with dirty laundry, and cleaning out the kitchen cupboards. I screwed my nose up at the mouse droppings I found underneath the sink, wishing I could borrow the imaginary cat that had gouged my face.

When the first load of laundry was finished, I piled the heavy, wet clothes into our large wicker basket, pulling it up into my arms and staggering into the garden. My father had installed a clothesline when we first moved in, over sixteen years before, and I started to peg the clothes out, watching as they began to dance in the gentle breeze.

A prickle on my neck alerted me to a visitor, long before he cleared his throat. I squeezed the wet socks in my hand before turning around, wondering why my heart was beating so fast.

"Eric?" I lifted my free hand to cover my chest. "Oh my, you gave me a shock."

He flashed me a sad smile, tugging a lock of black hair from his eyes. His face was tinged grey, like the sky after a summer storm. His dull eyes were bloodshot.

He glanced at my clothes—an old pair of cut-off jeans and a tiny black tank—but I didn't feel embarrassed like I would in front of any other guy. Eric never looked at me in that way, not the way Mike Newton, or even Edward Cullen would. His stare was more like a child watching animals at the zoo, interested, but not engaged. I felt comfortable in his company, when psychedelic drugs weren't involved.

"Bella, I'm so sorry ..." He frowned as he scanned my face, swallowing hard as he took in the gouges that were scabbing over. "I can't believe I did that."

Without thinking, I reached up and touched my skin, feeling the rough texture of the healing wounds. My mouth was dry, parched from my morning's exertions. I inclined my head to the kitchen door. "You want a drink?"

Eric nodded, and I abandoned the washing, walking over to the house. He followed behind, his sneakers dragging across the grass. As I pushed the door open, I noticed the yellow paint was peeling away, and the mastic from the windows was cracked, like the sun had beat down too brightly on it that year. I added it to my list of things to repair.

"Kool-Aid okay?"

"Sure." Eric leaned on the table as I walked over to the pantry, pulling out the lurid orange box and shaking out a sachet. Grabbing an old glass pitcher, I emptied the bright granules into the bottom, before putting it under the tap, filling it with water until the whole thing was a maelstrom of orange clouds.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, pulling out a long wooden spoon from the drawer. I stirred the liquid manically. I hated the way the granules clung to the bottom of the pitcher like drowning men to a lifeboat.

Eric shrugged, looking miserable. "I feel like shit." He glanced up at my face. "But that's because I _am_ a shit. I'm so sorry for hurting you like that."

I handed him a full glass, gesturing for him to sit at the table. "Do you remember any of it?" I wasn't ready to accept his apology yet, and I really wanted to hear about his experience. I was perpetually curious.

"Not much, just flashes whenever I try to sleep." He took a long, deep swallow. Beads of Kool-Aid clung to his lips. "Not that I can sleep for longer than an hour or two."

"Why did you do it?" I looked at him with eyes full of questions. He'd never been a rebel at school. He preferred to fly under the radar, keeping his camera in front of him like a knight would hold a shield.

Eric shook his head, staring down at his drink. I wondered if he could see beautiful patterns swirling within it. How long did an acid trip last for anyway?

"I felt happy, like I fitted in for the first time." His face was sombre as he spoke. "I've never felt like that. Not at school, and definitely not at home."

Eric lived with his parents in a ramshackle house on the edge of town. His mother was a quiet lady, barely seen, and his daddy was out of work after an accident at the mill broke three of his bones and left him hobbling for life. I'd heard he was a nasty drunk, and the bruises I sometimes saw on Eric testified to that. It wasn't unusual for a kid to be beaten, especially if they had a mean father, and I counted myself lucky that Charlie was anything but mean.

"None of us fit in, Eric. We're all just a group of outsiders, trying to claw our way through."

He grimaced, running his finger through the condensation on the outside of his glass. "You've never been an outsider. You don't know what it's like to be different."

I slammed my glass down on the scratched Formica table. "What the hell do you know about anything?" He made me angry, making judgements about me. He was casting aspersions where he had no right.

"I know you'll go to college and make your daddy proud. You'll probably get married to some handsome guy with a post-grad, then churn out three babies who'll be just as pretty and wholesome as you are."

I felt myself flushing again. "You say that like it's a crime to want a family."

"I didn't say it was a crime, I just said you had it easy. You'll never disappoint your parents, or have to hide stuff from everybody, even though it eats you up inside."

I looked at Eric through narrowed eyes. Who knew that beneath his calm surface there was angst? I licked my lips, tasting the tang of the Kool-Aid on my tongue, staring at him in contemplation.

"What's so different about you then, Eric? What makes you any better than me, when I can just picture you shouting at your kids while pushing the lawnmower on a Saturday afternoon. We're all gonna be parents one day."

His laugh was short and harsh. "You don't know anything." Eric leaned back in his chair, covering his face with his hands, using his fingers to rub at his bloodshot eyes.

"Then tell me."

He was silent for a moment, dragging his hands down his cheeks until his skin resembled a melting waxwork dummy. When he released them, his flesh sprung back, though the desolate expression on his face was far from an improvement.

"I'm gay." His voice was a whisper.

I was silent for a long minute. I checked the door to the stairs automatically, forgetting my father was already out. Leaning forward, I covered his hand with my own, surprised at its coolness on such a hot day.

"Gay?" I mouthed, trying to hide my surprise. I wasn't sure I'd met a real-life homosexual before. My eyes were wide as I considered the implications. It was a subject so taboo it was practically unmentionable; in our house, our town, and the country itself. The thought of a friend being gay was both shocking and exhilarating.

He nodded, saying nothing, though his eyes never left my face. I swallowed as I racked my brain for something to say, something to take the misery from his expression.

"Do you have a ... boyfriend?" My tone was still low.

"I've never met another gay man until we went to San Francisco," he admitted. "I think that's why I got so carried away." It explained a lot. The Eric I knew would never have experimented quite so freely with drugs.

"Do your parents know?" I tried to imagine how Mr. Yorkie must have reacted to the news. From my knowledge of his ready fists, I couldn't believe it was pleasant.

"I could never tell them. Nobody knows but you, and I'd like to keep it that way." His eyes were pleading.

I nodded my agreement. "I won't tell a soul."

"Not even Angela?" Eric was wily. He knew I told Angela pretty much everything.

"No, but _you_ should. We'd both be on your side." I squeezed his hand, trying to show him that I cared. "And by the way, I forgive you for my face."

He laughed, genuine amusement washing over him for the first time. He lifted my hand and squeezed back, his fingers almost crushing my bones.

"I wondered why you never took a girl to prom," I reflected, remembering how he'd said the official photographer was too busy for a date. "In fact, now I think about it, I've never seen you with a girl."

"I never saw you with a boy, either, until you sucked face with that doctor."

"You remember that bit, do you?" I grinned at him, my mind full of Edward.

"It was before the acid took effect. It was hot, though." He smiled back, "even if you are a chick."

I leaned across the table and whacked his arm. "Shut up, Eric."

He just winked, his body more relaxed than I'd seen it all morning. I felt a little fire burning in my stomach, warming me up as I thought of how he trusted me. Like me, Eric had been accepted at Berkeley, and I was glad I'd be there for him in case he ever needed me.

I hoped he wouldn't.

~*CD*~

Angela and I spent the Sunday at the lake, lying in the sun and talking, as we ran our fingers through the gritty sand. We ignored the sting of grains against our faces as children ran past us, kicking balls and flying kites. Not to mention the catcalls coming from Mike Newton and his friends as they played game after game of volleyball.

It was nearly 5:00 p.m. when a few of the kids from school stopped by to tell us about a cookout, asking us if we'd like to join them. I sat up on my threadbare towel, making faces at Angela as they asked for a dollar contribution for the food.

I wasn't a big fan of lake parties, though I enjoyed sitting around the bonfire, listening to Riley Biers softly strumming his guitar and singing whatever he turned his hand to. Unfortunately, the parties usually ended up in the same way; boys would get drunk, try and make out with girls, and then a fight would begin causing the police to be called. I always tried to leave before then, knowing my father would be one of the men to come stalking down the sand; his gun holstered but highly visible as he broke things up.

"So what do you think, should we go?" Angela asked.

I shrugged. I'd been hoping Edward might turn up, but Angela had told me he was still in San Francisco, where a rough batch of acid had led to a breakout of bad trips.

"What else is there to do?" The drive-in was still showing _Barefoot in the Park_, and the flea pit theater in town was running _In the Heat of the Night_, a movie we'd already seen three times.

"I'd offer for you to come and play vinyl in my garage, but if I hear the Beach Boys one more time, I think I'll scream." Her reply was dry as the desert.

Since the night of the drive-in, I'd become addicted to _Pet Sounds _album, despite it being two years old. I kept replaying "Wouldn't It Be Nice", agreeing with Brian Wilson that it would be oh-so-nice if I could wake up in the morning next to Edward, having held him tight the whole night through.

I'd annoyed Angela so much that she'd even begged me to play Bobbie Gentry.

"Ah, let's spend the dollar and go to the party." I felt like we were capitulating. There was nothing to do around Wentworth for kids our age, it was either this or stay at home with Angela's mom and watch _The Beverly Hillbillies_. There wasn't any competition.

"Why don't we call Eric and see if he'll come?" Angela suggested. It reminded me she had no idea about his revelations.

I picked a clump of grass that was growing through the golden sand. It came out by its shallow roots, leaving a crater in its place.

"Sounds good. Let's go home and put something warmer on." There was no way I was going to sit around the bonfire in a bikini, especially knowing Mike Newton was bound to turn up. We stood up and shook out our towels, a cloud of dusty sand raining down to the ground. Packing our bags, we headed home to get changed.

When we got back to the lake at 8:00 p.m., the orange sunset was bouncing off the lake, mirrored in its beauty by the roaring fire the boys had managed to build. It seemed like a different beach than it was in the daytime. The shouting children and over-attentive mothers were replaced by a different kind of activity. Teenagers were everywhere; some making out in the dunes, others throwing footballs; running long and shouting for the catch. By the shoreline a crowd had gathered and were passing around a pipe, reminding me that if my father came to check on us I was certain to be grounded.

Angela was called over by one of the girls from her Spanish class. I carried on to the fire pit, watching black specs of burned embers dance in the breeze, and feeling the wall of heat hit my skin. Riley Biers was plucking at his guitar, playing nothing in particular, his blonde hair flopping in his eyes.

"Hey, Bella." We vaguely knew each other from English, though he tended to sit with the stoners, and I was with the intellectuals. Away from school we talked more, sharing a love of music and a general ennui toward life.

"What are you playing?" I asked, hitching my leg over the log the boys had dragged over to form a bench.

"Just trying out a few riffs. I've been listening to Hendrix a lot."

I knew who Hendrix was, though I'd never been that big a fan. But listening to the way Riley crafted the chords made me rethink my preferences. His fingers moved over the strings like an artist, each sound he made drawing me in further.

"That's beautiful." I nodded toward the guitar. He looked up through his bangs and grinned. His strums got louder, and he opened his lips and started to sing "Hey Joe." There was something about it that sent shivers down my spine. I laid down in the sand, closing my eyes as his mellow voice made love to the lyrics.

The heat from the bonfire made my skin feel sensitive, as if the flames were whipping it. I breathed in deeply, inhaling the smoky fumes, enjoying the way their flavor danced in my throat.

I barely noticed when something sticky fell on my chest. My body was still attuned to the words spilling from Riley's lips. Then it fell again, this time icy cold against my skin. I opened my eyes, the last fragments of the evening sun obliterated by the tall man standing over me.

"Hey." Edward's voice was soft. He held a bottle of Coke in his right hand, tacky, brown liquid dripping from the thickly moulded glass. I sat up immediately, all thoughts of Hendrix forgotten. Edward knelt down to meet me, placing his bottle on the sand.

"How was San Francisco?" I felt shy again. Only a few days before I'd been grinding myself to ecstasy on his knee, but now my heart was hammering against my ribcage, blood rushing through my ears.

"The clinic was busy. Every time I thought I could get away, another case was brought in. Dr. Smith was totally overwhelmed, so I had to stay." His deep voice brought out a yearning in my body I didn't quite understand. He looked tired, his skin luminous against the flickering flames, his eyes dark and deep. I reached out to touch the shadow that had formed across his jaw, feeling the thick stubble he hadn't had a chance to shave away.

He captured my hand with his own, holding it against his cheek. His eyes closed for a moment as if to savor my touch. I rubbed my thumb across the sharp line of his cheekbone, feeling a soft rush of air escape his mouth.

"I missed you." I said the words before I thought them through. "It was quiet around here without you."

I didn't need to say it would be quieter still when he was gone for good. That spectre was more of a monster, waiting to eat us both alive. In just a few short weeks he'd be at Basic Training, and I would be heading for Berkeley. More than ever I wanted to stop the world from turning, from night melting into day.

"I'm here now." A slow grin formed on his lips, and like a magnet it pulled my cheeks up to form a smile. We stared at each other for a long moment, seeing the orange fire reflected in each other's eyes. It was like a manifestation of the heat growing between us.

I hadn't noticed Riley stop playing, but when I glanced around I saw we were all alone. I could feel a pulse jumping in my cheek, a reminder of the speed of my heartbeat. I watched Edward's mouth open, his full bottom lip dropping to reveal a sliver of tongue. My head was dizzy as I remembered how it felt when he brushed it against my mouth, pushing it inside and sliding it against my own.

"Let's go for a walk." His voice was thick and heavy. I nodded in agreement, and his fingers wrapped around my hand to pull me up. He didn't let go.

"There are some trees over there," I pointed to the far end of the beach. Most people didn't bother going that far, but I wanted privacy, to be alone with Edward Cullen while I still could. "A little path behind them leads to the rock pools."

I pulled off my sandals, and we walked across the sand. His height dominated my small stature. He had to moderate his long strides to let me keep up, and I suppressed a grin at his chivalry. We chatted idly, Edward telling me about his family, and his older brother Emmett. He worked in the DA's office in Seattle, though he had political ambitions like his father. Edward sounded bitter as he explained he, too, was expected to serve.

He captured my hand with his, threading his fingers through mine. We spoke of my mother, and the way she died of cancer when I was little. I told him how she'd take me to the beach every weekend, and that we'd dig ever-deeper holes, trying to find our way to Africa.

I leaned into him, as we talked of our fathers and their expectations, and whether we'd ever be able to live up to them. His skin was cool against my heated touch.

By the time we reached the rock pools, my earlier nervousness had dissipated, replaced by a breathless anticipation. The moon reflected on the calm surface of the water, occasionally rippling when a water boatman skated across the pool. We stood and stared down, unable to see any animals beneath the shallow, dark waters.

His profile was illuminated by the yellow moonlight. He turned to look at me, his gaze making my stomach contract and my heart hammer against my ribcage. Inclining his head, his lips brushed softly against mine in a way that made me sigh. All thoughts of crabs and insects were forgotten, replaced by sensation and deep, yearning need. I curled my fingers into his hair, feeling his wet tongue slide against mine.

I wanted more.

More of his lips.

More of his touch.

I wanted it all.

* * *

**A/N California Dreamin' has been nominated for Fic of the Week at TehLemonadeStand dot net, along with some other, excellent stories. If you have the time, it would be great if you could vote.**

** I'm going on vacation next week, but I have the chapters pre-written. I'll do everything I can to post as normal, it all depends on the wifi!  
**

**SunflowerFran beta's, Midnight Cougar, SparrowNotes24 and Pates Greeneyes pre-read. You are all fabulous.  
**

**Your reviews make my day, t********hank you for reading.** Choc xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was darker here than on the beach. The rocks were slick and mossy beneath us, the only noise cutting through the dark coming from the fire in the far distance. Edward pulled me against him, and my hands automatically wrapped around his waist. His thin t-shirt did nothing to hide the sinewy muscles of his lower back.

"You're so damned pretty," he whispered into my skin, dragging his lips down my neck. "I can't stand leaving you here, knowing all the boys want you."

I felt my chest vibrate with laughter. "They haven't exactly been banging down my door." It might have had more to do with being the police chief's daughter than my looks, but either way Edward had nothing to worry about.

"It'll be different when you're at college. You'll see."

His fingers pushed up through my blouse, calloused skin rough against my stomach. I lifted my head to kiss him again, wanting to feel him consume me.

"Different how?" I breathed into his mouth as his fingers pushed under my bra. "Good different?"

"Not good for me." He rolled a nipple between his fingers, making my whole body shiver. "College boys won't want to take no for an answer."

"It's the only one they're gonna get." I pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans, letting my hands slip under the loose fabric. Brushing my palms against his stomach, I felt the downy hair that led down to his groin, my hands hesitating at his waistband.

I'd never touched a boy before, never seen what lied beneath. Of course, I'd looked at diagrams, the type they used in Sex Ed to show us exactly what we shouldn't be doing behind the bleachers. But knowing that beneath the tight denim he was hard and pulsing, made my legs turn to jelly. I pulled him to the ground with me, my legs curling beneath my butt as I threw my arms around his neck, melting into his embrace.

My hand moved down, touching the warm metal of his belt buckle then the soft denim of his jeans. I hesitated for a moment, glancing up at him, watching his gaze heat up as I brushed my fingers against his hardness.

His gasp was loud and harsh.

"Is that too much?" I asked, worried I'd taken things too far. I should have spoken with Angela about these things, discussed how far I should go on what was tantamount to a second or third date.

The hot blood rushing through my veins told me to carry on.

"So good." Edward let out the words in a rush of air. His fingers curled around the back of my hand, pushing my palm against his erection. The denim strained under the pressure.

"Can I touch you? Inside, I mean." I didn't feel afraid anymore. I wanted to watch his breath get shorter, his groans get longer, as I wrapped my fingers around him. I wanted to see if he felt as hard in the flesh as he did through denim. I was desperate to find out if I could make him feel as good as he'd made me feel.

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, the dark fabric of his underpants showing through the gap. I reached out my index finger and ran it from tip to base, watching him twitch in reaction to my touch.

I looked up at him with a smile on my face. His full lips trembled when I pulled the waistband of his pants out, enough to dip my hand inside. He bucked his hips up before I even touched him; maybe the anticipation was getting to him as much as it was to me.

I curled my fingers around his swollen length, feeling the velvety warmth of the stretched skin. It was smoother than I'd thought it would be, despite the rigidness beneath, and I moved my hand up and down experimentally, watching his pupils widen at my touch.

"What should I do?" I whispered, my hand still moving his skin up and down. He swallowed heavily, adjusting his clothes, so my access was easier, curling his hand around mine to help me find a rhythm.

"Don't be afraid to grip hard." He released my hand, letting me take the lead. "You feel so good."

His hips rocked beneath my movement, and I shimmied myself up so I could kiss him as I caressed, licking and sucking his lips until his groans became cries. My thumb brushed across his engorged tip, feeling moistness pooling there, wondering what it would taste like if I pushed my thumb into my mouth.

"Don't stop." His voice sounded like gravel. He could barely kiss me now, gasping for air, his hips thrusting his hardness against my palm. I squeezed him softly, making him sigh, moving my wrist fast enough to make my hand ache.

"I'm so close." His eyes were squeezed shut, and I watched his face, marvelling at the way the moon reflected on his skin. His bone structure was so clear in the soft light, making him look older than he was, yet not diminishing his handsome features.

He hardened in my grasp, his flesh swelling in my palm. Strangled grunts escaped from his mouth, and I skimmed his tip again with my thumb, his breath stilted as I dragged the pleasure from him.

His body stilled completely. He pulsed in my hand, pumping thick, white strings across his stomach. I watched, fascinated, as the milky fluid coated his skin.

I kissed him again, slower this time, feeling his chest hitch in response to the pleasure. A ball of fire licked at my belly, making me feel so happy I'd brought him pleasure. I wanted to grin, to sing and dance and tell everybody that I'd made this gorgeous, funny, kind man fall apart in my hands, the results of my ministrations still sticking to his skin.

Without thinking, I ran a finger across his stomach, then lifted it to push it inside my mouth. He watched me through heavy-lidded eyes as I tasted him, the flavor on my tongue like a distilled version of his kisses. It was salty and sticky with an underlying sweetness, and I wondered if I would ever be able to swallow him whole.

When his breathing was under control I looked up at him, smiling shyly, loving the way his eyes glinted beneath his lashes. He leaned forward to brush his lips against mine, murmuring his thanks as our mouths moved together.

"You're welcome," I replied, pleased that I'd given him as much pleasure as he'd given me. He tucked himself back into his pants, his stomach still shiny and sticky from his release, and I looked around for something to help clean him off. Eventually we found a few leaves, large enough and dry enough to make a difference, but even then the residue remained. I bit back a smile to know that he'd spend the rest of the evening sweet and sticky as a result of my touch.

"I have to go back to Seattle tomorrow." Edward was lying beside me, his head resting in his outstretched arms. I was nestled into his side, my eyes hypnotised by the moonlit rock pools, the still water rippling beneath the movement of the insects.

"You do?" My heart sank. We only had a couple weeks left. I knew he couldn't stay at Ben's forever, but I wanted at least a few more days with him until he left for good.

"I'll make it as quick as I can. My father has demanded the whole family get together for the week before I go to basic training."

I closed my eyes and quickly calculated. That would only leave us a couple of days together. It didn't seem enough.

I reached up a hand and wrapped my fingers around his neck, feeling him inhale deeply as I touched him. It was as if his skin was still hypersensitive after his orgasm, and all I had to do was rub my fingertips against him to make him sigh.

"Will you come back? Before you leave, I mean?" There was an aching hole in my stomach that seemed to be growing. Only he could fill it. Only he could make it go away.

"Yes." He was firm when he answered, and it lightened my heart. I dug my fingers into his skin in response.

"My father is on nights next Friday …" I trailed off, but the inference was there. I thought back to the Beach Boys, and "Wouldn't It Be Nice?" There was nothing I wanted more than for him to stay the night. "Will you …?"

He curled an arm around my waist, his wrist heavy against my stomach. "You want me to stay at yours?"

I closed my eyes and nodded against his chest. It wasn't a sleepover I was offering, though that part would be perfect. It was more than that. I wanted him to have me. I wanted him to be my first.

Before he left.

"Are you sure?"

From the way his fingers entwined with mine, I knew we were talking from the same page. I might cook him dinner and curl up around him to go to sleep, but it was what would happen in between that counted, when he rocked his body into mine.

"Yes, I'm sure."

He ran his fingers down my arm, burning trails into my skin. I let him drag his lips across my neck, my body tensing as he placed gentle kisses there.

"Have you ever …" He trailed off, capturing my lips with his.

"No." I felt my face flush hot. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, pushing my body against him.

"Okay." He cradled my jaw with his hands. "Let's just take it easy, okay? See what happens."

There were moments when you wondered about your decisions, whether you were doing the right thing. But lying there in his arms, hearing the occasional splash as the rock pools went to sleep, I knew for sure that I wanted him to be the one.

I reached up to grab his hand, moving it down my body until he was cupping my breast. "I know what I want."

It might have been too fast, but I didn't want to think on that for too long. The world was a messed-up place that year, like a 45 rpm record played at 78 speed. I knew the only way to get through the madness was to cling like crazy to every little piece of happiness it had to offer. I wanted to give him everything I could in our last days together.

I smiled, squeezing Edward's hand, listening to his heart drumming against my ear. There was so much about life I was uncertain of, from the war in Vietnam to my place in the world, but of one thing I was absolutely, and irrevocably certain.

I wanted him.

~*CD*~

We were creeping around the stacks of the Wentworth Downtown Library, trying not to giggle as we pulled out random children's books and checked them for our names. Some had been on the shelves for so long that dust clouds erupted as soon as we pulled them out, yellow pages falling open to long-forgotten stories.

Angela had picked me up from my house that morning, telling me we were going to have a day of reminiscences. It was less than a week before she was due to leave for Columbia; a convoluted journey that involved taking a Greyhound and a cross-country train. She wanted us to spend the day reconnecting with our lost youth.

She had driven us downtown in her mom's station wagon, parking outside Horsey's Drugstore. We'd left the windows open so it wouldn't heat up the car too bad, making the faux leather seats stink like fish gills. Our first stop had been the movie theatre, where we'd laid down our dollar bills to join the under-tens in a morning matinée. Reels of cartoons were followed by a crazy episode of Flash Gordon, where Ming the Merciless tried to kill him with a death-ray. The children were running riot in the theatre, climbing over seats and throwing popcorn everywhere, and we both cowered away from them, afraid they'd try to capture us like the frenzied children in _Lord of the Flies_. Before Flash Gordon had even confronted Ming the Merciless, we'd made our escape through the fire exit; our eyes wide as we were pelted with stale popcorn.

That was how we ended up in the library. When we were younger, Angela and I had spent most of our time there, flicking through books and continually being hushed by Mrs. Cope, the spinster librarian who guarded the stacks like a three-headed hydra. She wore her grey hair in a tight bun; her eyes obscured by thick cat eye glasses that she kept on a chain, which hung around her neck. As Angela pulled out a tattered copy of _Nurse Nancy_, I could feel Mrs. Cope's stare burning a hole into my back, disapproval radiating from her body like heat from the sun.

"I can't see my name in here; I'm sure I took this one out." Angela complained, scanning the list stuck to the inside of the cover with paste glue. "I'm gonna write it in anyway."

She pulled a pen from her purse and we both started to giggle as she scrawled her name on the paper, her scrawling script looking a poor cousin to the elegant writing of Mrs Cope. Angela glanced up at me, an evil smile on her face, then wrote my name next to hers, making the 'I' in Isabella overly large and elaborate.

A creak of the floorboards alerted us to Mrs. Cope's approach. We ran out laughing from the library, watching as she made her way to the shelf we'd just left; her face pulled into a frown when she inspected the bright yellow book we'd written in. We walked straight over to Horsey's, sitting down at the soda fountain and ordering a root beer each. An old Wentworth High graduate worked behind the fountain, and as he took our orders we chatted idly about teachers we'd shared, and whether the Wentworth Tigers stood a chance of winning the league next year.

"So." Angela pulled the white straw to her lips and sucked. "Edward Cullen."

I grinned and said nothing. She elbowed me in the ribs then mouthed his name again, her eyebrow rising as she gave me a knowing stare.

"What?"

"Tell me about him. What did you two get up to when you disappeared for so long last night?"

I pushed the crushed ice around my glass with the straw. "We talked."

"You looked way too flushed for a girl who just talked."

I glance over to Greg, who seemed to be ignoring us. He was tinkering with the soda machine, pouring syrup inside.

"We might have done a little more than talk." I didn't know why I was blushing. This was Angela I was talking to, the girl I confided in about my periods and my lust for Paul McCartney. In turn, she'd told me before she first slept with Ben, asking my opinion on birth control and whether she should make him withdraw before filling her up.

Yet it seemed wrong to tell her about somebody as glorious as Edward. He was like my little secret; I wanted to zip him inside my chest and keep him there like a caged songbird.

"Did you do it?"

I shook my head. "He's going to stay the night on Friday."

"Wow. You're really going to go for it?"

Angela reached out to squeeze my hand. I would miss my best friend so much. We'd spent practically every day together for the past twelve years. It broke my heart that I'd be losing her and Edward in the same week.

I looked her straight in the eye. "I want him to be my first."

"I'm so happy for you. Ben says he's a top guy. He seems completely into you, too."

A loud bell above the door signalled a new customer, and Greg looked up, walking across to serve the three girls who sat down at the counter. I raised my eyebrows at Angela, and she mimed pulling a zip across her lips, in a silent promise to keep her mouth closed.

Yes, I really loved that girl.

I leaned forward to hug her, the linen of her dress tickling my bare arms. "Thank you for listening."

She winked. "You're welcome. And I want to hear _all _the details."

~*CD*~

When I got home later that day, my father was sitting in the front room wearing a freshly-pressed uniform, eyes glued to the early evening news. I had a bit of a soft spot for the anchorman, Peter Jennings, with his serious grey suit and funky ties, and I curled up next to Daddy to watch the broadcast. He adjusted his jacket, tutting as Jennings described the downing of two US Bombers over China, speculating about the extent of the red threat as the US ramped up its involvement in Vietnam.

I tried not to think too hard how Edward would be in a plane to Asia soon, just one among thousands of soldiers being sent to Vietnam in the dubious name of freedom.

Our telephone rang as Daddy was pulling on his holster, ready to start his evening shift. He inclined his head to tell me to answer it, knowing there was a good chance it was for me.

"Hello?" I twirled the cord in my fingers, leaning against the kitchen wall. I kicked the door shut with my bare foot. Daddy preferred me talking in the kitchen, liking the idea that when Angela called he wouldn't have to listen to our inane conversation as he tried to watch the television.

"Bella?" Edward's voice crackled down the line.

"This is she." I spoke a little louder, hoping he could hear me.

"How are you?" Despite the interference, I could detect the soft, mellow deepness of his voice.

"I'm good. How are you?"

The phone crackled again, and I held it closer to my ear.

"Missing you." He paused for a moment. "It's been a shitty day."

It didn't sound like him. I hoped nothing awful had happened in Seattle. "I'm sorry to hear that. Why so bad?"

"My father laid down the law. He's sending me to Officer Candidate School after Basic Training. He's trying to get me to have an administrative job in Saigon."

My heart dropped. I knew that Edward had wanted to serve with the enlisted men as a show of solidarity. The fact his dad had changed his plans, making him serve as an officer, was bound to make him angry.

I couldn't admit it warmed my heart.

"He is? Why is he doing that?"

Edward laughed bitterly. "Because he can."

"I'm so sorry." I wanted to tell him I'd make him feel better, just as soon as he made his way back to California. I wanted to give him comfort the only way I knew how.

"So am I." His voice dropped an octave. "I leave for Basic training next week. We'll only have the weekend before I have to go."

I closed my eyes, my stomach dropping at the news. I'd known this was coming, was aware that he had to leave, but the fact it was so soon about broke my heart.

"Come back to me." I didn't know whether I meant now, or after Vietnam. Perhaps I meant both.

"I'll be there on Friday." There was a promise behind his words, and I wanted to hold on to it like a clam clinging on to outside of a boat. I couldn't think about next week, or the fact he'd be going to fight a deadly war. I couldn't think about anything other than the burning need to feel Edward Cullen moving inside me, his heart clattering against my chest.

I bit my lip and said the words that would haunt me for the next year.

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

**A/N - Ola and greetings from Portugal. If you're reading this, it means I've managed to post from there. Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing and recommending, it means the world to me. Thanks also if you voted for this in the TLS Fic of the Week - you rock. Apologies for being a total fail at review replies this week, normal service will resume when I get back from holiday.**

**Sunflower Fran betas, Sparrow, Mid and Pates pre-read. I'm so grateful for their help.**

**Next chapter will be up next Wednesday, if the Wi-Fi behaves. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all have a great week. Choc xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The tan leather of my father's suitcase was brittle and peeling, the brass clips dull and worn with age. He'd bought it years ago, in preparation for his honeymoon with my mother. They'd spent three days on the Californian coast, their bodies wind-swept and tender as they navigated their first days as husband and wife. I knew all these things though my daddy never spoke of those days. It was like knowing how to walk, or the right words for the right objects. Maybe I was remembering long-forgotten stories that my mother had told me when I was little more than a baby.

"I'll be back late Saturday." My father's voice was gruff and low. He worried about me when he was away, though I never gave him any cause to.

Taking the pile of clothes from his tough, leathery hands, I lay them neatly in his case. The lining was torn from overuse, and I tried to pull it together enough, so his uniform didn't catch.

"I'll be fine."

He caught my eye. "I want you to check in with the precinct every night before you go to bed. They'll let me know you've called."

I nodded an agreement, my mind already on the road from Seattle. Edward was due in to Wentworth by nightfall. My heart pounded with excitement, but my legs trembled at the thought.

"You have any plans?" He laid his cap on top of his clothes, pushing it down so it wouldn't get squashed by the lid of his case. Closing it with a click, he hefted it off the bed.

"I'll probably see Angela."

It wasn't a lie; it was a half-truth, though I wasn't foolish enough to think there was much between the two. I knew if my father ever found out I'd invited Edward Cullen to stay, he'd have a fit worthy of a three-man hold down. It wasn't a scene I was keen to play out.

"No staying at her place." His distrust of Mrs Weber seemed as ingrained as ever. I rolled my eyes and held my tongue. Some things just weren't worth fighting over.

I followed him out of his bedroom and down the stairs, watching as he holstered his gun, the leather straps criss-crossing his back. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, his mustache tickling my ear, and making me grin. It reminded me of when I was a little girl, when his butterfly kisses made me howl with laughter. It used to drive my momma mad.

"Be good." He repeated his words like a mantra. I took them and threw them away in the recesses of my mind.

"You be safe," I responded, and it was his turn to roll his eyes. I didn't care; the city wasn't like Wentworth, it was hot and dangerous and full of fools like Eric. Daddy ruffled my hair and walked to his cruiser, slinging his case on the backseat. I stood and watched him reverse out of the drive, his spinning wheels kicking up dust clouds that floated then retreated.

I was finally alone. The butterflies lying dormant in my stomach came to life, their fluttering wings brushing against my insides. I'd been thinking of nothing but Edward Cullen all week; half cloudy memories of the way his face softened as he released in my hand, his breath beating out a tattoo of pleasure. I wanted to see that again, this time as he moved inside me, his skin touching mine in a way that made my breath hitch.

I wasn't sure what I was feeling so afraid of: that I'd see this thing through, or that I wouldn't.

~*CD*~

Edward arrived at my house just as the sun was losing her evening battle against the sky, her weak rays illuminating his burnished hair. I stood in the doorway, my hand resting against the glossy yellow paint of our door, watching as he pulled a rucksack from his car. In his other hand, he held a bouquet of pink lawn daisies.

As soon as he looked at me, my breath caught. There was something about the hard line of his lips, the dark glint of his eyes that made me bite my lip with wanting. I gripped the door a little harder.

"Hey." The corner of his mouth kinked up. I noticed a scar running down from his bottom lip. I wanted to trace it with my finger.

"You look beat." There were dark smudges beneath his eyes, and his tan skin took on an edge of pallor. I was torn between kissing him and dragging his ass to the bathroom. I wanted to scrub him happy.

Edward had no such qualms. He dropped his backpack and flowers on the stoop, and a moment later his strong hands were curled around my shoulder, pulling me toward him. I let my body melt under his grasp, my face pressing against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. He held me for a long minute, his fingers tangled in my hair, his mouth inhaling me like oxygen.

I was finding it hard to breathe; not because his embrace was constricting my airflow, but because it felt like something was exploding inside me, an emotion way too big for my small form to contain. Even as I felt the warmth of his body against my cheek, I could feel the cold hand of fear creeping around my heart.

"I've missed you."

I felt his chest expand with a soft chuckle. "I've missed you, too. So much."

His hand smoothed the hair from my face, his other tipping my chin so I was staring straight at him. I still found it hard to read his expression.

Across the road, I noticed a curtain twitch. I hurriedly pulled him inside, not wanting to put on a show for the good citizens of Wentworth. All I wanted to do was throw myself at this beautiful boy. In private.

We walked into the kitchen, Edward dropping his backpack on the Linoleum floor. I took a can of Schlitz from the icebox, pulling back the key before I passed it to him.

"Hey, I brought you these." He handed me the daisies. They looked handpicked.

"Thank you, they're beautiful. Did you bring them all the way from Seattle?" I wanted to grin like a loon. I'd never been bought flowers before. This man made my heart spin like a carousel.

"I stole them from our garden." His smile was wicked.

"How was it?"

He tipped his head back and took a huge mouthful of beer. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed it down. "Seattle was full of shit."

I didn't like the shadow that darkened his eyes.

"Your dad?" I prompted, wondering what had got his goat.

"Yeah, he was laying down the law, as usual. Told me I would be running Emmett's campaign for Congress when I get home." He laughed harshly. "Apparently, Cullens don't go to med school."

I cupped his jaw with my hand. "I'm sorry."

Edward shook his head. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't be loading this all on you."

"I want you to." I caught his eye. "I want you to talk to me."

"You're too good to me." He lowered his face until he was breathing in my hair. I breathed him in, trying not to think about how short our time was together. I wondered if the flowers would be dead before he left.

"I should put these flowers in some water. I don't want them to wilt." I walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass vase from the cupboard beneath. "They're beautiful."

I leaned over the vase, arranging the flowers so they looked as pretty as he made me feel. A moment later I sensed him standing behind me, his body casting a shadow on the work surface.

"Beautiful girl." The sensation of his lips against my neck made my nipples pebble. I tried to breathe deeply, enough to replenish my starving oxygen supplies, but all I could taste was him. He was on a collision course with my senses, his touch making me raw with need, his whispered words and fevered eyes causing butterflies to explode inside me. It was all foreign to me, but amazing all the same.

Somehow we stumbled into the living room. His chest pushed onto mine until I fell against our scratchy sofa, his hands shielding me from the pressure of his weight as he fell on top of me. I wanted to speak, wanted to tell him how he was making me feel, but every time I opened my mouth he consumed me, his tongue tracing a line of fire across my own.

My body was impatient for more, my hands greedy as I tugged at his t-shirt, lifting it over his head. I wanted to burn an imprint of his skin on my retinas like the sun on a bright day. His eyes caught mine and there was heat behind them, the darkness from earlier, erased by lust.

"We should go upstairs." My voice was raspy.

His hands were under my top. If he touched my breasts, I knew I'd explode.

"Let's take this slow. We have all night."

It didn't seem enough. It would never be enough.

"Edward …" I was caught between chastisements and begging. I was certain the latter would win.

"Tonight is about you." His fingers danced a trail up my sides, thumbs barely brushing my breasts. It was enough to make me thrust.

"About us."

"Us, then," he agreed, dipping his mouth to suck at my neck, his teeth scraping softly. "But we're taking it at my pace."

I let my head drop back onto the arm of the sofa, a cry escaping my lips as he softly sucked at my nipple, his tongue barely brushing against it. I didn't know where my reactions were coming from, but I wanted it harder, faster, stronger, and he seemed to know how close to the edge I was, and wasn't willing to let me fall over.

"Let me make you mine."

I could hear the plea in his voice.

"I _am_ yours." There was no hesitation.

"Are you sure you want me to be your first?" His words were muffled by my skin.

I dug my fingers into his hair. "Yes."

Edward's gaze met mine. "Thank you." His voice was almost reverent. It made me want to cry.

His mouth slid across to my other breast, his touch just as intense. My hips were rocking to their own rhythm, looking for something he was holding back. I wanted to grind myself against his body, the way we did at the drive-in, but he ignored my pleadings, blowing cool air on my nipples.

His teeth scraped against my fevered skin, making me gasp.

"You like that, baby?" Our eyes met. I nodded mutely.

His fingers moved down to the waistband of my skirt, pulling at the zip until it gaped around my hips. He pushed inside, hands hooking into the elastic of my panties, forcing them down until they were over my thighs. His thumb dipped into the heated slickness, brushing against me until my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

"Kiss me." I needed something to ground me. I felt like I was going to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.

Our lips met, and this time it was me who was insistent, my hands curling into his scalp, my tongue plundering his mouth. His thumb rubbed steady, decadent circles against me.

"You're … I'm going to …" Even with his hand between my thighs I couldn't bring myself to say the words. My cheeks flamed with dismay.

"It's okay to come." His lips moved against mine as he spoke. "Just feel it. I want you to _feel_ what I am doing to you. Remember it."

Like my body was waiting for his words, I felt my legs stiffen in response. My back arched from the sofa, moments away from exploding like a newly active volcano. My eyes were so tightly shut I hardly noticed when his weight shifted; not realizing his mouth had released mine until I felt the softness of his hair brush between my thighs.

His tongue only had to drag against me once before I exploded, my shout followed by a whimper. His mouth latched on to me, sucking in a way that felt too good. My insides fluttered and I was needy for more.

"I want us to try."

"Now?" He looked at me through thick, dark lashes. Fire burned green in his eyes.

I nodded. He lifted me from the sofa, carrying me easily through the house to the stairs. I was naked and vulnerable in his arms. Together we made it up, his hand curled around my waist.

When we got to my room I stared at the toned lines of his chest, lightly peppered with brown hair. His hands moved to his belt, and I couldn't drag my eyes away as he pushed his jeans past his hips, leaving just a pair of black shorts between me and the prize.

"Please take them off."

He raised an eyebrow at my command, grinning lopsidedly as he pushed down his shorts. Coarse, dark hair trailed from his navel to his groin, leading to his hardness.

He climbed up the bed until his body was covering mine. Heat radiated from him. He held a small tin in his hand, red and white enamel paint proclaiming the brand. I realized what it was as soon as he opened it. He pulled out the condom, rolling it down, the prophylactic glistening in the soft light of the room. I couldn't tear my eyes away, as I realized that somehow, someway, he was going to have to fit inside me.

"Are you sure about this?" His voice was searching. His eyes bore into mine as if he'd find an answer there.

"I'm certain." And I was.

I closed my eyes as he lowered himself onto me, his chest hair brushing my breasts in a most delicious way. My breath faltered when his tip pushed between my thighs, moving slickly until I could feel him line up against me.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

His hands reached under my body, cupping my behind as he surged forward, stretching my entrance enough to make my eyes fly wide open. My ragged breathing made him stop momentarily and check my face for acquiescence. Whatever he saw there was enough to make him carry on.

"You okay?" He groaned against my hair.

"Keep going." I was trying to keep the pain from my voice, despite the ache between my legs. I didn't want to give him a reason to stop; I wanted to be completely his.

Though I denied it, he sensed my hesitation, slowing down to give me a chance to accommodate him. I gripped the sheets in an effort to ride out the hurt. His weight above me was reassuring, his lips brushing against my forehead like a gentle prayer.

"You feel so good. Can I move inside you?"

"Yes," I breathed and braced myself for the worst. He thrust his hips forward until they were touching mine, pushing fully inside. My breath hitched as I waited for the pain to subside, his gentle fingers caressing my hip, making me forget about anything else.

"Does it hurt?" His eyebrows knit into a frown.

"It's not so bad." The initial surge of pain had been replaced by a dull ache, and a stabbing need I'd never felt before. "I want you to make love to me, Edward."

His mouth pushed hard against mine, his kiss harsh and fast. "I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

I cupped his behind, my fingers digging into his cheeks encouraging his rhythm. His hips brushed against the soft skin of my thighs as he moved inside me, his eyes never leaving mine. His stare was intense enough to stab at my core, his lips full and glistening as he let out gentle breaths.

I couldn't drag my eyes away. We were actually doing this, he was moving inside me and I didn't regret a thing. It wasn't the physical act that affected me as much as the emotional connection. Just looking at him as he leaned his body above mine made my heart explode.

"Come back to me." I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving.

"I will." He lifted a hand from my hip and cupped my cheek. "I'll come back."

I took his promise and buried it in my heart. Tears stung at my eyes as our bodies moved, heated drops rolling down my cheeks as he reached his peak. I held his shuddering body in my arms, his face rough against mine, and whispered every word my heart could think of. Every word I needed to say … while I had the chance.

~*CD*~

"What's this?" Edward picked up the charred remains of the pot-roast I'd forgotten about in the heat of the previous night.

"Last night's dinner. You feeling hungry?"

We exchanged smiles.

"Not for charred pig."

The shadows under his eyes were paler than yesterday, his whole demeanor lighter than before.

"I guess I'd better give it a decent burial." I opened the back door and put the meat in the trashcan. The blackened pot would need scrubbing later. "How about I make us some pancakes instead?"

Edward buried his face in my hair. "Sounds amazing."

"It's just eggs, flour and water. Not exactly something to be praised for."

He laughed. "When you're used to cornflakes and black coffee, it's definitely something to be praised for."

He filled the coffee pot as I whipped up the batter, whistling a Beatles number slightly out of tune. I smiled to myself, peaceful in our domesticity, trying not to think about what today was going to bring.

We'd promised to treat this as a first, not a last.

It wasn't easy.

After breakfast, we drove down to the lake. It was busy — even for a Saturday — and it took a while for us to spot Angela and Ben. They were sitting with a big group of friends in the grassy dunes behind the sand. Lying like June bugs on the green-gold ground, their bodies sprawled beneath the warmth of the sun.

Angela only had to glance at me to see the glow. A smile quirked at her lips, and she mouthed "later." I rolled my eyes.

I didn't want to think about later.

I pulled off my shorts to reveal a red striped bikini. Edward blew out a breath and then ran a finger down my spine. I glanced down to see if my visceral response was obvious to everybody else.

"What time are you leaving?" Ben asked, shielding his eyes as he looked up at Edward.

"I'm catching the midnight bus from San Francisco."

"You gotta change?"

"I'm catching a flight from LA to Atlanta first thing on Sunday." Edward lowered himself to the dune, pulling me into his lap. "I'm due in Fort Benning by sundown tomorrow."

I let him wrap his arms around my body, pulling me tightly against his chest. My head fell back on his shoulders.

I wasn't ready to let him go.

"You okay?" he whispered, kissing my nose. I opened my eyes, squinting them in the glare of the sun and nodded.

"Just enjoying the view."

"Your eyes were shut." There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

I didn't care. I was remembering the way he had spooned me all night, his breath regular and warm against my neck. It was perfection. Everything.

Ben pulled some cans of beer from a brown paper bag, passing them around. I shook my head, preferring the can of Tab I had in my hand. I felt intoxicated enough; I didn't need alcohol to get me drunk.

"Is that Sam Uley?" Angela covered her eyes, staring over her shoulder. "I thought he was at basic?"

We followed her gaze, over to the side of the lake, where a group of kids were sitting around a barbecue. Sam Uley had been the star player on Wentworth High's football team, graduating the year before us.

"He's got a few days before he flies out to 'Nam, and decided to come home to see his girlfriend." Eric smiled sadly, staring over at me. I felt Edward's arms tighten around my waist, and I held on to them with my hands. Soft hairs danced against my palms.

"When's he going?" There was a lump in my throat as big as a mountain. I watched as Sam pulled a brunette onto his lap, burying his face in her hair. Even from where I was sitting, I could see the bereft expression on her face.

Eric shrugged. "I heard he leaves next Friday."

I shuddered. It was so soon, too soon. I'd been so concerned with Edward leaving for basic training that I'd not even considered what came afterward. Being stationed at Fort Benning for three months was nothing compared to being sent to war.

"Poor Sam." Angela took a huge gulp of beer. "And poor Emily." His girlfriend was our age. I hadn't been in any classes with her, but I'd seen her around the halls. Just watching her holding him so tight was enough to make my blood run cold. I shivered despite the heat.

Then they kissed. It was soft, gentle and reminded me of Edward. Sam ran his hands through her hair, and I swear I could hear her sob.

It made me want to cry, to scream, to rail against the world. At that moment, I hated President Johnson and all those leaders who made decisions that changed our lives. I wasn't sure if I'd know how to breathe while he was gone.

I wasn't sure I wanted to.

The day passed too fast, the sun moving from right to left like the hands of a clock. By mid-afternoon we were packing up, loading all our gear in Edward's car, letting him drop us home one by one.

Finally, we were alone. I stared out of the passenger window at the dusty road, trying to breathe enough to keep myself in one piece, knowing every roll of the wheel took us closer to his departure.

"Are you leaving your car in San Francisco?" I tapped a rhythm against the door.

"Yeah, David said I could leave it at his place for a while." He raked his fingers through his hair. I had the sudden urge to cut a lock off and keep it with me, like a heroine from a gothic novel.

"Will you write?"

He glanced across. "Of course. And I'll call. You'll get sick of hearing from me."

I reached out and grabbed his hand. "I'd never get sick of that."

"Good." He tried to smile.

When we pulled up outside my house, he left the engine idling, stepping around the car to open my door. I pulled him against me, his strong, lithe body dominating my own, my head buried in his chest.

"Don't walk me to the door." There was a lump in my throat as big as an iceberg.

He brushed his lips against my eyes. "Please don't cry, baby."

I blinked, feeling hot tears pooling beneath my lids. I couldn't stop them from spilling.

"Just promise me you'll take care." I didn't want to think about the white coffin that my cousin was buried in, but I did.

He cupped his hands around my face, brushing his nose against mine. His warm breath fanned my skin.

"Bella, you can bet your life I'll be careful." His soft lips found mine. "I'm coming home to you."

I kissed him hard, my mouth greedy to take as much as I could. I started to cry, my tears cascading like a waterfall after a storm.

I wept for my cousin and the way he'd fallen so bravely.

I wept for all the boys who were forced to wear men's boots way before they were ready.

I wept for Edward, and for us, and for the fledgling passion cut off before it could ever blossom.

I wept.

And he left.

* * *

**A/N Thank you to everybody who voted for California Dreamin' on The Lemonade Stand's Fic of the Week. I'm delighted that we won, and Midnight Cougar has written the loveliest review. Thank you!**

**All my love to SunflowerFran, Pates, Sparrow and Mid. I appreciate your advice and hard work.**

**I'm Chocaholic Fanfic on Facebook, chocaholic12345 on twitter. Come chat with me.**

**Normal review replies will resume next week, just as soon as I'm on English soil. I miss talking with you. Until then, thanks for reading and have a great week. Choc xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I barely slept that night. My mind was full of thoughts, swirling in my head like a carousel. Blurred memories mixed with fears for the years ahead. Pictures of Edward in a uniform, my cousin lying in a closed casket, Sam Uley climbing the steps to a plane headed for Asia flashed through my mind like a newsreel.

The summer had changed everything. In the same way the sun had colored my skin, my experiences had colored my mind. I couldn't recapture the girl I once was; I didn't want to.

I lay on my bed, a wilted daisy curled in my fingers. My skin was hypersensitive, like he was still here, still touching me, still moving inside. I touched my thighs gingerly, feeling the bruises caused by his hips, the aching caused by his absence. My cheek was fevered against the rough cotton of my pillow, which still carried his scent, as I stared at my window, watching as the darkness of night was slowly invaded by the rising sun.

The morning after.

The first one without him.

The first one of many without him.

I hated it.

"So do you feel different?" Angela asked when she called.

I was standing in the kitchen, my fingers tangling in the telephone cord, watching the way the dappled sunlight made the wooden work surfaces look bleached and washed-out. My eyes were red and puffy, stinging as I tried to focus on the bread I was buttering.

"Different how?" I clenched my thighs; they were still sore, like they would feel the day after a long distance run around the dusty track at Wentworth High. My breasts felt tender, and my eyes were tight with redness, but all those things were physical. I wasn't sure she was referring to that.

Angela laughed. "Like a woman?"

I rolled my eyes. "This isn't a soap opera, Ang."

"Come on, I need details. You two looked pretty cosy at the lake."

I almost smiled at the memory of his arms around me. "We were."

"Ben said Edward had a hard time at home in Seattle. Something about his father's re-election."

I frowned. He hadn't mentioned that, though he had an air of anger about him when he arrived. He'd shrugged it off like an old, unwanted coat.

"He was okay. He didn't really talk about his family." I blushed when I realized how little I actually knew him.

"Well, I guess you guys had better things to …" Angela's voice was drowned out by the noise of the front door banging. I was about to start talking again when my father's voice rang out, louder than I'd ever heard him bellow before.

"BELLA SWAN, GET IN THE LIVING ROOM RIGHT NOW." His words had an edge, which made me shiver. Charlie Swan never shouted.

"I've got to go," I whispered down the mouthpiece. "I'll call you later." I hung up the phone and hurried to the living room. Daddy was already sitting in the high wing-backed chair he'd made his so many years ago. The green, worsted fabric had long since taken on an imprint of his frame.

I stood awkwardly before him, unsure whether I should sit without him telling me to. He was still in his uniform—wrinkled and saggy from a day's wear. There were dark patches under his arms where the heat had got to him. More than anything he looked drawn; his face looked pale beneath his usual healthy tan, his lips a thin line under a dark mustache. I could feel the skin on the back of my neck start to tingle, knowing whatever he wanted to say it wasn't going to be good.

"I bumped into Mrs. Johnson."

I swallowed hard. Eunice Johnson was the neighborhood gossip—a white-haired busy-body who knew everybody's business whether you wanted her to or not. She lived in the white-washed, clapboard house opposite. I was squirming inside when I remembered noticing the curtain twitching last night. Right before I dragged Edward inside the house.

"In fact, she went out of her way to walk over to me. Wanted to congratulate me on your engagement, though she was surprised I allowed your fiancé to stay the night when you weren't married."

"Daddy, I …"

"I HAVEN'T FINISHED TALKING," he thundered.

My heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings, my stomach feeling like it was full of a lead shot. This wasn't me forgetting my homework or failing to do the laundry. I'd gone against his explicit wishes, not to mention committed a mortal sin. Like Edward, I was going to hell.

"She saw him arrive last night and leave today. Did he stay the night?"

I opened my mouth, but the words didn't come. I was like a fish, lips opening and closing. I nodded, and his eyes narrowed.

"Who is he?"

"Ed … Edward," I stuttered.

"The doctor friend of Angela's?" My daddy had a policeman's mind. Nothing seemed to get past him.

"He's pre-med," I whispered.

"I don't give a damn if he's Doctor goddamn Seuss. He came in here when he wasn't invited." He leaned forward, motioning me to sit down. My bottom hit the sofa hard, like an air balloon falling down from the sky.

"Did you sleep with him?" His eyes were dark clouds.

I was many things, but a liar wasn't one of them. I nodded again. I hated seeing the way his mouth twisted, as if he was in pain. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but the mortification of this conversation pinned me down in the seat better than restraints ever could. We hadn't even discussed menstruation, let alone sex. I'd hoped to keep it that way.

Charlie leaned back in his seat and sighed heavily. Cupping his chin with his hand, he ran a thumb across his thick mustache, his eyes never leaving my face. I felt as small as a mouse, shrinking under his gaze. His right foot tapped out a rhythm on the frayed edge of the tapestry rug he'd bought with my mother the year they married. His silence unnerved me more than his anger.

I twisted my hands together, my over-dry palms scratching as I wrung, and I tried to form the right words to make this right. But my lips were stubborn, like an old mare refusing to pull the cart one more day, only my eyes able to express how I was feeling.

"Was it your first time?" His tone sounded pained.

I was so embarrassed. The ground couldn't swallow me up fast enough; I wanted to disappear into thin air.

"Yes." My reply was strangled by my breathlessness. My nails dug into my hands strongly enough to make crescent-shaped marks in the skin.

He lifted his hands to cover his face, but he wasn't fast enough for me not to notice the reflection of the living room lamp glinting in his eyes.

My father never cried.

My big, strong, stoic daddy, with his gun and his strong sense of justice, rarely betrayed any emotion at all. Occasionally he'd laugh at an episode of 'I Love Lucy' or throw his arms up in anger at a bad call in a Giants' game, but when it came to me he kept his feelings on an even keel. I appreciated his air of disinterest; secure enough in the warmth of his love to know this meant he was preoccupied, not that he disliked me.

That day, his response made me feel worse than anger ever would.

"Thank God your mother isn't here to see this." His voice was muffled by his hands, but I still caught every word.

"Daddy ..." I moved off the sofa, falling onto my knees in front of him, reaching out to touch his arm.

He flinched.

"Don't. Just don't."

My mouth was dry, my throat painful and parched. The only liquid in my body seemed to pool in my eyes.

"I didn't ... I'm so sorry I hurt you." My voice cracked. I bit my lip, watching his expression turn sour, his normal equanimity eaten by fury.

"Go to your room." He shrugged off my hand, body vibrating with anger. "I can't look at you right now."

I pushed myself off the rug, my knees protesting at the sudden movement. Hot tears streaked my face, and I placed a hand over my aching heart as I walked away, heading for the stairs, my feet heavy as I did as I was told.

~*CD*~

Angela left for New York the next day, and I was allowed to leave the house briefly to wave her goodbye. I stood on her driveway, my arms flung around her waist, and tried not to cry as we talked of letters and Christmas.

When Ben drove her away, Eric put his wiry arm around my shoulders and walked me home. We both avoided the subject of those who had already left, preferring to make plans for our own departure, though our short journey to Berkeley was nothing compared to Angela and Edward's.

It was still farther than I ever thought I'd go.

My father was working in the yard when we turned the corner onto my street, the sweet smell of freshly-cut grass hanging like washing in the air. He glanced up at Eric and raised an eyebrow, causing him to hastily remove his hand from my arm.

"You ready for college, son?" It was the first time I'd heard my father speak since the previous day.

"Yes, Sir. My case is already by the door."

I tried not to smile at Eric's eagerness. My own case was flung open on my scuffed wooden floor, clothes scattered around it like rice at a wedding. I just couldn't find the enthusiasm to think about packing.

"You want a ride when I take Bella on Saturday?"

My eyebrows rose up and my eyes widened. I hadn't expected him to take me, let alone offer to take Eric too.

"That would be great!" Eric sounded ridiculously eager to take a ride in the cruiser. I wondered whether it was the fact he wouldn't have to take a bus, or that he'd get to be in a real police car, which made his eyes light up.

"Be here by nine," Daddy replied gruffly, turning away to clip the unwieldy lavender hedge.

Eric squeezed my arm goodbye, and I gave him a weak wave, watching his slight form as he wove his way along the sidewalk, sneakered feet kicking up imaginary dust. He had a long walk to his home on the edge of town, but I didn't feel brave enough to ask Daddy to take him home.

A few days later my father was at work, when the mailman jammed our letters inside the rusty, old mailbox. I walked down the drive, figuring even if I was confined to the house, that included the grounds. I tugged the door, the hinges creaking and stiff, pulling out the envelopes contained inside.

They were addressed to my father: bills and mail shots, a letter from my uncle and a new Sears's catalogue. Stuck between them, though, in a light blue, square envelope, was a letter addressed to me, bearing a Fort Benning stamp.

Of course, I opened it straight away.

_Fort Benning, GA_

_Dear Bella,_

_Hey beautiful. _

_I arrived at the base late on Sunday afternoon. It took about five hours to be processed, checked from head to toe by a doctor, being measured for uniform, and finally having my head shaved – I thought of you the whole time my hair fell to the floor. Then we were herded like sheep into a projection room where we were shown a movie reel about basic training. The projector broke down twice, causing a few guys to shout abuse at the projectionist. They spent the rest of the night doing push ups on the muddy ground, their faces regularly being pushed into the earth. _

_The base is made up of row after row of barracks. I'm rooming with eleven other guys, at least three of whom cried themselves to sleep the first night. It twisted my gut, but it was preferable to the sounds of the guy to my left. The less said about that, the better. I'm one of the oldest here, the majority are either eighteen or nineteen, and remind me of some of your friends at the lake. It kills me inside to think they're deemed old enough to go and fight, when most of them can't even vote. _

_Somehow that seems an injustice to me._

_The weather has been cloudy since I got here, the sky over-heavy with moisture, but refusing to release any rain. I expect a terrific storm to hit us any time now. It would be a relief if it did. Despite the clouds and lack of sun, the heat here is oppressive and draining. We all drag our feet when we're marching from room to room, enough to rile up our officers. They keep handing out salt tablets and cups of water, and we gobble them up greedily, our parched mouths thankful for any relief. The older officers – those who have spent more than one tour in-country – say it's good training for our time in Vietnam. They also tell us there are only two types of soldiers – the quick and the dead._

_I can tell you, even though I'm sure this is sound advice, it doesn't make any of us feel any better._

_Each morning we go out on a five mile run, regardless of whether it's raining or not, and let me tell you it can be a messy and __grueling__ adventure. At lunchtime we eat our "rations" in the field before we are back doing drills again; while we are being well-fed, we are also being taught the __realism__ of a 'Nam soldier's meal situation. In the evenings we stand in line for chow for about half an hour, then are given five minutes to eat. Sometimes we train long into the night, though this evening they've given us some time off. A few of the guys have gone to watch a movie in the rec room, some others are sitting outside having a smoke._

_At the moment, I'm lying on my thin mattress and thinking of you. We don't have a lot of downtime, so I'm taking this opportunity to write as quickly as I can. I hope you can read my handwriting. _

_Sweetheart, every moment that isn't taken up with instruction or activity is filled with thoughts of you. When I lie on the thin mattress and stare up at the ceiling after lights-out, I close my eyes and picture you, remembering your sweet face and beautiful smile, and the way your hair bounces on your shoulders as you walk._

_I miss feeling you in my arms. I know we only had a few weeks together, but they were enough to make every cell in my body crave the touch of yours. My lips tremble with the memory of your skin, and the way you taste when I run my tongue across its silky softness. The fact you are so far away is sweet torture, and I'm glad our days are so full and demanding that I don't drive myself mad with wanting to taste you again._

_Did I tell you how beautiful you were that final night when you lay in my arms? You fell asleep quickly, your lips slightly open as you exhaled softly in your dreams. It drives me crazy to remember the way your hair laid in silky strands on your cotton pillow, and how I could smell the fragrance of your shampoo every time you moved or I moved above you. I swear if you douse your letters with that scent it will turn me on instantly._

_Christ, the thought of you does that__and more to me. _

_It makes me high, knowing I was your first, the only man to know how it felt to be inside you, the only one who you've let in._

_Do you know how amazing you make me feel?_

_I'm the luckiest guy I know. I'm so grateful you gave yourself to me. I will cherish it always._

_I'm desperate to see you again. I know we only had a few hours together, but they were enough to make every cell in my body crave your touch. The fact you are so far away is like torture. The VC has nothing on you._

_Can you send me a photograph? I want to remember how you looked this summer when I first saw you walking out of Angela's house. I want to see your tan skin, your beautiful face and show every guy on this base how gorgeous my girl is. One of the guys in our block – a southern guy named Jasper – has a camera, so I'll persuade him to take one of me with my new haircut. He seems a pretty cool guy, and recently graduated from the University of Texas, so like me is one of the older ones here. Unlike me, he's already married. His wife is living with his folks in a small town outside of Houston. I guess it must be pretty hard on her, him being away._

_I know it's hard on me being so far from you._

_Can you still read this? The lights have gone out, and I'm using a lighter to finish the letter so I can get it in the mail tomorrow morning. I'll sign off now before I set anything on fire, but will try to write again soon, definitely by the time you start your first week at Berkeley. I know you're going to have an amazing time there. I remember my own time at college so well; just make sure you throw yourself into everything you can, okay?_

_I miss you. Let me know how you are doing. _

_I'm always yours, every part of me,_

_Edward._

I stared at his words for a long time; much longer than anybody had a right to focus on blue-inked letters. I wanted to consume each word the way Edward's memory devoured me, in a rough, animalistic, bare-fanged way. His writing cut me like an over-sharpened knife, the wound so clean and deep you hardly noticed it was there until, a moment later, the blood started pouring, and the throbbing pain reached your consciousness.

I loved, and I hated the way he made me feel. Like a child whose skin had been scrubbed until raw, I felt exposed and itchy, the pain of existing being difficult to bear. I had to concentrate deeply to remember the way he smelled and the way he tasted; the soft touch of his breath caressing my skin as he moved inside me. I craved his presence like my lungs craved oxygen; both seemed necessary for my survival.

I spent the rest of the day writing him a letter, trying to tell him how I felt, trying to hide how miserable I was without him. I wrote about need, desire, the way he'd lit a flame inside my belly that would never burn out. I told him I would wait as long as it took until he was back by my side.

I blotted the paper so the ink wouldn't run with my tears.

My father allowed me to come down for dinner. We ate in silence, the clanging of metal utensils against china the only soundtrack to his disdain and my embarrassment. The meatloaf tasted like ashes in my mouth, as dry and arid as my heart felt.

When we finished clearing up, I was sent back to my room.

I didn't care; I didn't want to leave it anyway. I didn't want to do anything but think of him and cry. I wrote the letter until my hand cramped with pain.

That night I dreamed of soft limbs and rough camouflage, and even in slumber my heart ached. When I woke the next morning I started my packing, and within a few days I, too, was leaving Wentworth.

* * *

**A/N - Apologies for the posting delay - I came back from holiday with a gum infection. I'm on the mend now, and normal posting will be resumed next Wednesday.**

**All my thanks to Fran, Shelli, Sparrow and Mid for their help, and big love to you all for reading.**

**Have a great weekend. Choc xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When I arrived at Berkeley that fall I felt a little like Dorothy landing in Oz. There was no dead witch beneath my house, nor a welcoming party of munchkins popping out from behind trees, but the Technicolor wonder of the University Plaza reminded me of the Emerald City. The concrete quad was packed with students: hippies with long, curtained hair, prep-boys recruiting for their frats, and anti-war protesters with slogans painted on their baggy-white t-shirts. The air was thick with conversation, punctuated by louder shouts from the anti-war brigade, and I reached out to hold Eric's hand, feeling the need to connect with somebody I knew.

"You all unpacked?" Eric shook my hand loose to take a photo of the protesters. His lips twitched as he watched two groups meet up and start to shout at each other, their placards used for weapons as emotions ran high. Somebody had defaced a poster of Ronald Reagan, painting a Hitler-style moustache under his prominent nose, and it reminded me of his hatred of Berkeley and its students.

"I'm pretty much there. I didn't bring a lot with me," I replied, having to steady myself when a protester almost hit me with their flailing arms. "I managed to fit all my clothes in the tiny closet with room to spare." I smiled, knowing that Angela wouldn't be proud of me. My new roommate was, though. Vickie had managed to fill her own closet along with half of mine. In return she'd offered me full use of her clothes. If we hadn't been so mismatched in size I would have agreed.

Reaching the coffee shop we grabbed a table, clearing it of screwed-up napkins and dog-eared leaflets advertising the Doors' concert at the Community Theater later that month. Just seeing Jim Morrison reminded me of being in the car with Edward, his body weighing down on me in the backseat. I tried not to remember the way he felt, his hard-muscled thigh between my legs, his hot breath bathing my skin. I lifted my cup and took a huge gulp of bitter-hot coffee, the liquid scalding my tongue as I swallowed.

I tried to concentrate on Eric's words. He described his shared room in Bowles, and raved about the medieval-style architecture and wooden entrance. It stood on the north-east side of the campus, nestled into hills, which only seemed to add to its foreboding presence. I'd already heard girls in my own halls talk about how the food and parties were so much better there than at our own place.

The jarring sound of a scraping chair made me jump, muddy-brown liquid spilling out of my cup. A tall, brown-haired man pulled out the chair next to me, sitting down and staring straight at me through grey-green eyes. He reached up to push his hair out of his face, and I noticed a livid red scar leading from the corner of his eye to his ear.

"You party?" he asked, and my eyebrows knit with confusion.

"I … what?"

"Do. You. Party? We're holding a freshman get together at our house tonight. You're invited." His eyes never left my face. It was as if Eric was invisible.

"I don't party." I could feel a flush of blood warming my cheeks.

"I'll pick you up at eight. Where do you live? You look like a Stern girl."

I folded my arms in front of my chest, feeling anger bubbling up in my throat like molten lava in a volcano. "Look, whatever your name is, I don't want to go to a party … with you or anyone else."

My fury didn't seem to affect him at all. His even features molded into a grin as he reached out to touch my bare arm. I moved backward, glancing over at Eric, wondering if he was going to do anything at all to help me.

"You can bring your friend." He gestured at Eric. "We're over on La Loma Avenue."

"You're in Theta Xi?" Eric suddenly came alive. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his upturned palms.

"Yeah. I'm Garrett." He reached out and shook Eric's hand. "You interested in coming tonight? Free entry if you bring the chick."

I rolled my eyes. "The chick isn't interested."

Eric kicked me in the shin, and I yelped.

"We'll be there." Eric's voice had an air of assurance. I turned and stared at him, my eyes wide. Where the hell did he get off making decisions for me?

Garrett grinned, winking at me as he pushed himself out of the chair. "I'll look forward to it. See you tonight …?" He paused, expecting me to fill in my name.

I didn't.

Unfortunately Eric did. "Bella, her name is Bella."

"And you're an asshole," I hissed through the corner of my mouth.

~*CD*~

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" I grumbled. Vickie dwarfed me in her three inch heels, as we walked across the campus. We were meeting Eric at the Frat House, just outside the northern boundary.

"Because it's full of rich, hot boys and kegs of beer." She walked in heels like I walked in Keds. I was impressed by her endurance.

"I thought you said you had a boyfriend?" As we made our way through the northern exit, Vickie flashed a toothy smile at the bored-looking policeman.

"I do, but he's at Dartmouth and I'm here. There's no harm in a little try-before-you-buy."

"Would he see it like that?" I asked.

"He's not going to find out." She shook her long red hair until it fell like a curtain down her back. She was wearing a short, short psychedelic dress, her long tan legs seemingly endless. Walking alongside her I felt like Ethel to her Lucy.

I glanced up La Loma to see if Eric was there yet. The Theta Xi Chapter house stood proudly in the distance, at the top of Strawberry Canyon, surrounded by towering oak trees. Officially known as Kingman Hall, the sprawling mansion boasted a basement billiard room and an amphitheater dug into the sloping grounds. I was still reluctant to walk inside, but Eric had begged me to go, explaining he wanted to be picked as a Theta Xi pledge.

He was my friend, I liked him. I occasionally felt sorry for him. If it took going to a frat party to help him fit in, then I'd do it.

He was standing beneath the largest oak tree when we approached, his face shaded by the canopy of leaves, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. He stepped forward, his loose khakis looping under the toe of his shoe, making him stumble. I reached out to steady him, wrapping my hand around his scrawny bicep, and he smiled at me gratefully.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Eric glanced over at Vickie, his gaze disinterested and flat. Her face dropped into a frown.

"We had to walk a little slow. Vickie's wearing stilts." I gestured at her three inch heels. "Anyway, who arrives on time to a party?"

Eric shrugged, and he tugged at my hand, pulling me up the path behind him. There were people sitting on the stoop, sharing a reefer and blowing smoke rings into the air.

It reminded me of Edward.

Everything reminded me of Edward.

"You on the list?" A bored girl with a pen in her mouth stared at us, her fingers clutching an old wooden clipboard. I glanced at Eric, willing him to say something.

"They're with me, Maggie." A familiar voice called out through the window. I looked over to see Garrett pulling back the drapes, his mop-topped, black hair falling in his eyes.

Maggie sighed, tucking a bronzed curl behind her ear. "Pledges to the left, guests to the right. Put a minimum of one dollar donation in the bowl next to the beer keg." Her trailing voice betrayed her indifference. Her eyes were already straying, looking for the next big thing.

I reached out and pushed the door open. The lyrical harmony of The Byrds' "Mr Tambourine Man" caressed my ears, Roger McGuinn's nasal tones making love to the lyrics. Vickie's heels tapped against the rough boarded floor in time to the beat, and she curled her fingers around mine, squeezing them tightly.

"I'm going to find out about pledging." Eric's easy dismissal of us reminded me of our trip to San Francisco. I knew he was still searching for that place where he felt accepted, but was pretty sure that Theta Xi wasn't it. I kept my mouth shut.

Vickie and I were still holding hands when we walked into the kitchen, and my skin prickled as all eyes turned to stare at us. I felt like a rack of fresh meat at a market stall, something to be surveyed and assessed.

"You came." It was amazing how Garrett always managed to sneak up on me. I didn't like that feeling one bit. It was such a contrast to the way I sensed Edward before I ever saw him. It made me sick to think he wasn't here with me.

It made me sicker to think of where he actually was, and I couldn't help but shiver.

"I promised Eric." My reply was dry. The Byrds had blended into The Stones' 'Ruby Tuesday'. Whoever was in charge of the music was clearly feeling a chilled-out vibe.

"He's not your boyfriend, though," Garrett surmised. I didn't like the way he sounded so sure of himself.

"My boyfriend's at basic training." Vickie slipped a plastic cup in my hand. The beer inside was amber and warm. I took a long sip, nearly spitting it out when the alcohol hit the back of my throat.

Garrett's eyebrows rose up, disappearing beneath his heavy bangs. I blinked in sympathy at the way his hair must tickle his eyes.

"That's a long way from here." I flinched as he leaned forward, running a long finger down my cheek. "You must be lonely without him."

I looked around frantically for Vickie. She was standing on the other side of the kitchen, laughing uproariously at something another frat boy had whispered in her ear. I stared at her back, willing her to turn around, wanting her to see how uncomfortable I was feeling.

"I'm fine." My voice was thin and reedy. I hated the way I sounded.

He was standing too close to me, his aftershave strong and cloying. His thin shirt brushed against my arm as he leaned over, his breath hot against my ear.

"Why don't you let me cheer you up, sweet Bella?"

Before I could reply, there was shouting from the living room, and we all drifted over to the doorway to watch the pledges parading through. Eric was one of the last to walk in, his slight frame eclipsed by the taller, more muscular bodies of the other pledges. My palms curled in as I saw how vulnerable he looked, like a new recruit, walking among a group of seasoned soldiers.

I couldn't work out what he was trying to achieve. He'd already told me he was different from other boys; did he really think carrying out some hazing pranks and becoming a fraternity asshole would make him fit in?

He sure as hell didn't look like he did; he actually looked ridiculous.

A tall, blond mountain of a guy walked in front of the line, his hands firmly placed on his hips when he came to a stop. Vickie was standing to the right of me, and I noticed how her chest hitched as she watched. I leaned a little closer to her, away from Garrett who seemed intent on invading my personal space.

My attention was drawn away from him by the loud, booming voice of the Theta Xi leader, standing in front of Eric. "Welcome potential Theta Xis, my name is James."

A loud whoop came from the back of the room.

"You have been bestowed the honor of pledging for membership of our fraternity. For the next month you will have the opportunity to prove whether you are worthy of becoming our brother. You will need to show bravery, loyalty and sheer determination if you wish to become a Theta Xi. This process isn't for the faint-hearted. If any of you doubt your abilities, I advise you to withdraw your pledge right now. The next four weeks are going to be hell. Only after that will you see the light."

There was a murmur among the line of pledges, but nobody stepped forward to withdraw. I glanced over at Vickie, wondering if she shared my discomfort at the display, but she seemed too busy staring at James to feel much of anything.

Another frat brother walked down the line, carrying a huge tray of what looked like raw meat. He handed a hunk of red, juicy flesh to each pledge, then ordered them to eat it as fast as possible. The slowest eater would have to scrub the house toilet clean with his own toothbrush.

I'd heard rumors of pledges eating raw liver, some choking on the tough gristle, others becoming sick afterward when the rancid meat was ingested into their system. But I couldn't watch as Eric pushed the bloody meat into his mouth, his jaw chewing frantically as he tried not to be the last to finish.

My stomach turned, and I shrugged off Garrett's insistent hand, wanting nothing more to do with this insane ritual. I leaned across and whispered to Vickie I was leaving, and her face dropped, a battle raging behind her eyes as she tried to decide whether to leave with me or stay at the house.

"What about Eric?"

"He looks fine to me." My words sounded bitter. I knew enough about Eric to know his sense of self-preservation was non-existent, but somehow he always got through.

"Can't we stay a little while longer?" she cajoled, her eyes still glued to James. I could feel irritation bubbling inside me.

"I'll just see you back at Stern."

She flashed me a smile, then widened her grin as James's eyes fell on her. It seemed like I was forgotten in an instant.

I walked out of the living room, brushing past warm, sweaty bodies, wanting to be anywhere but there.

"Wait up," Garrett called out.

I wasn't sure if it was my innate politeness or something else that made my feet stop moving. Either way, my hackles rose up, making my damp neck feel oversensitive.

I turned to look at him, wanting nothing more than to shake him off and climb into my small, uncomfortable bed.

"What do you want?"

"Are you leaving?"

I sighed. "I'm ready to go home."

His short, sausage-link fingers grabbed at my palm, slippery with sheen and overconfidence. I pulled away quickly, my ennui firing up into something altogether less savory.

"I'll walk you home." He wasn't offering.

But then, I wasn't accepting.

"I'll be fine. It's just a short walk."

I didn't give him a chance to reply, slipping my hand from his and pushing through the crowd, the thick aroma of patchouli and weed leaving a foul taste in my mouth when I finally made it outside. There was a lump in my stomach the size of a rock, and I couldn't shake off the anxiety as I walked past the campus policeman. I wished Angela was here right now; she'd know what to do about Eric, Garrett and everything else that was weighing down heavily on my shoulders. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The sense of foreboding was an alien sensation, and my skin itched with the worry.

I longed for a certain pair of strong, tan arms to encircle my body, for a certain pair of lips to kiss me until I couldn't think straight.

That night I touched myself and thought of Edward, but it was never enough. Nothing would be enough until I was in his arms again.

~*CD*~

_Fort Benning, GA_

_October 1967 _

_Dear Bella,_

_I got your letter when we returned to base last night, and I pounced on it like a starving man would grab at basic rations. As soon as I opened the envelope it was like you were here with me. I swear I could smell you, all sweetness and memories, and it reminded me how desperate I am to see you, to touch you, to make love to you until we are both wet with sweat and sticky release._

_It's so hot here right now. We spent the day in PT at the combat area, uniforms sticking to us like a second skin as we repeated drills over and over again. For over an hour, we were forced to crawl through the combat zone on our stomachs, using just our forearms for propulsion. The dust invaded our nostrils and mouths until we could taste nothing else. I swear I can still taste it now._

_I've been spending a lot of time with Jasper Whitlock. He seems more suited to the Army than me, with all his talk of strategy and capability, but he's a good guy and I think we get on pretty well. We have a pass this weekend and he's talking about arranging a trip to Atlanta, which should be fine, though I can't help but wish you were there. I want to spend a weekend buried in your body, bringing you sweet tea and making your lips tremble, maybe hear you call out my name once or twice. I want you to take back ownership of my body from Uncle Sam, and stamp your name on my skin as surely as you have on my heart._

_Okay, deep breaths, because I'm sitting outside on the grass and it's no place for this level of excitement. I'll try to calm myself as I write, but Christ, Bella, just the thought of you is enough to make my blood flow hot. I have a picture in my wallet that Ben sent to me. We are lying on the beach at Wentworth Lake, and you're curled up in my arms, and you're giggling about something, trying to bury your head in my chest, your mouth so close to my bare skin I can practically feel your breath on me. I stare at it before I sleep, trying to remember what it was that made you laugh so hard, and how it felt to have your body so close against mine. I think it was taken the day after we made love for the first time, and I like to believe your moment of happiness was because I'd made you mine._

_It's starting to get late here. The sun is falling toward the horizon, leaving clouds of orange and purple in her wake. It's heartbreakingly beautiful, and I wonder if you'll see the same thing in a few hours when sunset reaches California. I love this part of the day, when our training is over and we have a while before bed. Some of the others have gone to the rec building to watch a movie, but when they told me it was 'Barefoot in the Park', I declined to join them. That was our movie, and I couldn't watch it again without you, knowing the memory of making you come for the first time would give me an awkward problem I don't think the camo print would hide. That's not something I care to share with anybody but you._

_I'm heading to bed soon. The wake-up call at 4 a.m. always kills me in the worst way. Tomorrow we have more drills and a lecture in the afternoon. I'd like to call you over the weekend, if that's okay? I want to hear your voice, and all about your time at Berkeley, and to have you reassure me nobody else has caught your eye. I want you to hear that I miss you and can't stop thinking about you, and that you're the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on._

_Until then, as always, I'm yours._

_Edward._

_Ps. I almost forgot, but you asked for a photo with my new haircut. Jasper took this one last week, when we were allowed out of camp for the day. It gives you a much better idea than the portrait the army took, as they insisted I keep my cap on. Now you need to send me one in return, okay? _

_Preferably topless._

_I kid._

_Kind of._

_E._

* * *

**A/N - Thanks for all your get well wishes, I'm back in action. Glad to be rid of the pain!**

**All my thanks to Fran, Shelli, Sparrow and Mid for their help, and big love to you all for reading. Even when I don't reply, I cherish all of your reviews. Thank you for writing them.**

**See you next Wednesday. Choc xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

That fall, Berkeley seemed like a microcosm of the outside world; an angry melange of protesters and peaceniks, students and civilians. Walking across campus made my skin tingle and fizz, my body hyper-aware that I was alive, but there was always an edge. A feeling of unease I couldn't shake off.

I didn't know if it was caused by the undercurrent of violence that seemed to accompany the demonstrations, and the itinerant protestors bussed in alongside them, or the fear of what could come. Despite the progress the country had made in civil rights, there was growing unrest, and when a member of the Black Panther Party was arrested for the murder of a white policeman in Oakland, this spilled over into more turbulence, making the campus police become more vigilant, and our curfews stricter.

My daddy called a lot; to remind me to stay home at night, to make sure I locked the dorm room door. He spoke to me of changes in San Francisco, and stagnation in Wentworth. He even told me that Jessica Stanley's baby was due sometime in February, and that she and Mike were having a November wedding.

He never mentioned Edward Cullen.

But then nor did I.

Like my mom's death, that stolen weekend was something we swept under the carpet. A pile of unwanted dust, best hidden from sight and never discussed. I knew it was there, though, that Edward-shaped lump, and we tiptoed gingerly around it, knowing the slightest misstep could bring the building blocks of our strained rapprochement tumbling down.

And then there was Edward.

He called occasionally; a three-minute period when I stood out in the breezy, cold hallway, my body leaning against the peeling wall, my eyes closed, listening to his soft voice. We sent letters, exchanged tokens, occasionally laughed at how different our worlds were, though he could understand mine at least, while I knew I had no real grasp on all that his entailed. When I went to bed, I clutched his photograph between shaking fingers, running them over his beautiful face, remembering how tense it was as he moved inside me. I didn't want to lose that memory, but with each passing day it was hard to think of our time together as anything other than a fading dream; one of those you woke up from before you were ready, and lay in bed desperately trying to chase it, before realizing your efforts were futile.

By early November, the unease in the pit of my stomach was my daily companion, making me avoid the dorm canteen, only eating when the roar of my belly embarrassed me enough in class to do something about it. I still sought out Eric, desperate for a connection to home and Edward. We spent part of each day together, swapping war stories about our lectures. I listened as he told me of his hazing, trying to hide the disgust that built inside me as I remembered the boys his age fighting a war across the Pacific, while here at Berkeley they thought it was funny to eat raw meat and get paddled.

And yet it was the soldiers who were demonized here on campus.

One Sunday, we were sitting under a tree on Campanile Esplanade, leaning against the rough bark as the Carillon bells echoed out from Sather Tower. I was wearing an old dress of my mom's from the 1940s that I'd found in our basement just before I left. The tight bodice and pretty yellow-and-red floral design making me feel sophisticated in a way that flared jeans and dirndl skirts never could.

"Has 'hell week' already started?" I asked him, referring to the final week of pledging, before the hazing was over.

"Officially it starts tomorrow, but we're on call at any moment for orders." Eric's hair flopped into his eyes, and he dragged his fingers through it like a comb. "Two guys have already dropped out."

"I don't blame them." The bells had stopped. The silence rang through my ears louder than the crashing ever did. "Why are you doing this anyway?"

It was the question that had been playing on my mind for a month. I just couldn't reconcile the gentle geek with the need to pledge to a fraternity. It didn't seem in character for my friend.

Eric's laugh was mirthless. "It's all part of the role, Bella. I go to college, I join a frat, and when I leave it gives me an in for a good job. Maybe that way I can buy a house and persuade my mom and sisters to leave that asshole behind."

I wrinkled my nose. We all knew what a bastard his dad was … to all of them. His fists didn't discriminate; both Eric and his mom bore the trophies of his easy beatings.

"But it isn't you …" My voice trailed off. Who the hell was I to tell him what he should be? I didn't even know who _I _was.

"It has to be."

We were silent for a moment, watching a makeshift football match start up across the grass, tall boys with thick muscles throwing the ball back and forth, their noise and boisterousness getting louder as people started to circle around them.

I started thinking about the package that arrived from Edward yesterday, and the Van Morrison single he'd carefully wrapped up and sent to me. I'd played it so many times on the gramophone Vickie had brought with her from home that I knew every single word within a couple of hours. Edward had called me his 'Brown-Eyed Girl' in his letter.

"Have you heard from Angela?"

I opened my eyes to look at Eric. "I got a letter last week. She's already organized a sit-in about freedom of speech."

He caught my gaze and we both started laughing. Among the craziness of student life, knowing my best friend hadn't changed lightened the mood.

"How about you? When are you going to do something other than sulk?" Eric's eyes crinkled as he spoke. I frowned, wrapping my arms around myself as he stared at me, wanting to push away his concern like Superman would a speeding train.

"I'm not sulking."

"You are. It's not like you to do anything but study." The corner of his lip quirked up. "Last year you were on every single committee at school."

"So I'm taking a break." I flopped back on the grass, lifting my arm up until it was covering my eyes, shading them from the fall sun. "I don't want to get involved."

The truth was, I didn't know where I belonged anymore. Every time I saw the permanent vigil against Vietnam, it made my stomach clench with nausea. Before Edward, I would have been signing up for shifts, organizing rotas and shouting out slogans. Now, that would have felt like a betrayal, to Edward and my heart, despite the fact my more rational mind was telling me Edward didn't believe in the war either.

"That's not you." Eric lay down beside me, his arm brushing against mine. I felt his fingers wrap around my palm, the warmth of his skin making tears prick against my eyes. "You've always wanted to get involved. Most of the time you're involved before you even make a choice." His voice dipped low. "I'm pretty sure Edward doesn't want you to put your life on hold for him, or change your values and beliefs."

I snatched my hand back. A single tear rolled down my cheek, gravity leading its trail to the corner of my lips, the salty sweetness pooling there. I didn't want to talk about Edward.

"I was thinking about joining the Daily Cal." The student newspaper had a reputation for being left-of-center, and though the University Administration kept the editor on a tight rein, I still liked the way the reporters were allowed some freedom. "I just haven't been in there yet."

"You need to stop thinking and start doing." Eric ducked as the hard, leather football sailed a few inches over his head. I laughed at the expression on his face; a mixture of shock and disdain.

"Okay." I bumped my arm against his and smiled. "I'll do it, just to get you off my ass."

"Sweetie," Eric dug me in the ribs with his sharp, bony elbow, "I promise you, of every guy you know, I'll never be on your ass."

The smile he flashed me was dazzling. For the first time in weeks, I felt the welcome feeling of peace blanket me like a warm cloak on a cold winter's day.

~*CD*~

I hardly saw Eric for the rest of the week. He was busy with pledging, and I finally gave in and applied for a junior position at the Daily Cal, agreeing to work in the print room. I started the next day, the loud machinery and dirty ink making me leave in the evening with my ears ringing and my fingertips black. On Thursday, I was hiding in the rec room at Stern, mostly because Vickie and James were in our room, doing God knew what on her tiny twin bed, but also because every Thursday night the men of Bowles Hall walked up to serenade the ladies of Stern. Having endured the caterwauling for the past few weeks, I wasn't sure my eardrums could take it after the day I'd had.

The TV was on, black-and-white images flashing across the screen as Walter Cronkite's low voice reported on the action from Vietnam. His serious face was interspersed with scenes from the fighting; men dressed in combats and tin hats crawling along the ground, their hands wrapped around rifles and guns, their faces camouflaged with dirt.

I'd only just slumped on the threadbare, sagging couch when the communal telephone rang. I waited for the usual clatter of slamming doors and footsteps pattering across the tiled floor as we all raced to pick it up, but the low hum of the Bowles Drinking Song coming from outside the building reminded me that all the girls were out there, watching the boys sing loud and true.

I pushed myself up, the muscles in my thighs aching as they stretched. The red plastic phone was firmly fixed to the wall outside the rec room, and I reached it on the fourth ring, lifting it to my ear and muttering a "hello," down the mouthpiece.

"Can I speak with Bella Swan?"

I recognized his voice immediately. Butterflies danced in my stomach like students at a prom. "Edward?"

"Hey." His voice was deep and low. There seemed little of the melancholy of the past few weeks in it. "The operator says I have two minutes. I wasn't even sure I'd get to speak to you."

I laughed. "I'm glad you did." There was a low buzzing down the line, enough to make me have to strain to hear him. "Everybody else is outside listening to Bowles sing."

"They still do that?" I could almost picture him screwing up his face in surprise. "My brother told me that's how he met his wife."

A smile tugged at my lips. It was the first time he'd mentioned his family without anger in his voice. "If they sounded half as bad then as they do now, it's amazing she ever agreed to go out with him."

"I find that surprising myself." He cleared his throat. "Have they tried to win you over yet?"

He sounded jealous. It warmed me inside, like a tumbler full of best-malt whiskey. I hadn't told him about Garrett, or the fact he was still chasing me around campus. I didn't have anything to hide, but I didn't want to worry him since he was so far away.

"The only Bowles boy I hang around with is Eric."

"Glad to hear it."

"How's basic?"

"We finish this week. Jasper and I move out to OCS on Sunday."

I closed my eyes. Edward had already told me that after eight weeks of OCS he would receive his orders. That meant he'd be flying to Vietnam sometime around Christmas.

"The others?"

"Once they finish basic they ship out. A few are going to Germany ..."

"And the rest to Vietnam." I finished his sentence so he didn't have to. "How old are they, Edward?"

"Nineteen, twenty." His voice cracked, and I bit my lip. The rowdy voices of the Bowles men could still be heard through the walls. They were mostly nineteen and twenty, too. It was a stark contrast.

"Bella, it's going to be okay. We'll get through this, and then you and I, we can pick up where we left off."

I was trying not to cry, but the lump in my throat made my voice sound fuller, harsher. "It's such a long time. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. I think about you all the time."

"I miss your—"

"You have fifteen seconds remaining." The operator's voice interrupted us. I wanted to hit the wall with frustration.

"I'll write you tonight. And send me some more of those cookies, okay?"

I smiled. I couldn't afford to buy him things, the way he did me, but I could bake a mean chocolate and pecan cookie. "Okay."

The line went dead. I held the receiver to my ear for a long minute, my watery eyes closed as I pictured him doing the same; his full lips close to the mouthpiece, his jaw tight and firm beneath.

As I hung up the phone and walked back into the rec room, the news had finished, and the Ed Sullivan Show was on. I collapsed on the chair and watched Topo Gigio make a fool out of himself, my cheeks damp from tears.

~*CD*~

On Friday, 'hell week' came to a close, and the girls in my dorm were full of talk of the party at Theta Xi that evening. This was where the successful pledges would be initiated, and the unsuccessful, humiliated. If I'd been a better friend, perhaps I would have gone, to cheer for Eric, or to share my commiserations had he failed. As it was, I'd been avoiding Garrett for the past few days, ever since he'd told me I'd be his date for the evening, and I'd told him to go to hell.

Luckily, James and Vickie had long departed for the Theta Xi house, leaving me to my peaceful solitude. I laid back on my bed, staring at a book, but not taking in any of the words. The next thing I knew was a loud banging on the door, my eyes flying open to find my book over them, where it had fallen as I dropped off.

"Bella!"

I jumped up and wrenched the door open. Eric staggered into the room, practically falling into my arms, his body heavy against mine in spite of his thin frame. His chest was heaving, his face streaked with tears. I leaned back to look at him, my mouth gaping with shock when I saw the livid red pen scrawled across his forehead, the word 'FAGGOT' spelled clearly for everybody to see.

"Eric, oh my God."

He started to cry. I dragged him to my bed, trying to sit him down so I could take a look at the ink. "What happened?"

"They found out about me." His lips trembled. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, wanting to clean his misery away.

"How?"

"Somebody saw me kissing another guy. They took pictures, Bella. They've plastered them all over the campus." His face was paler than I'd ever seen it, tinged with grey. I wanted to scream along with him.

"It doesn't matter."

"It fucking matters." He hit the bed, his fist rebounding from the mattress. "Everybody knows. Everybody."

"But you're still you." My voice was a whisper.

"I'm ruined. Nobody's going to want me around. I'll get kicked out of my dorm."

"This is California. Gay's okay."

He shook his head at me. "You know as well as I do it's a crock of shit. I'm ruined. If my dad finds out ..." His voice trailed off.

"He won't."

"If they've plastered the pictures over campus, they've probably sent one to my home." Tears poured down his face. I hugged him tightly, but his body tensed beneath my touch. That feeling of sickness had returned to my stomach, and for the first time I noticed the strange smell wafting from him.

"What else did they do?"

"They threw beer at me." His shirt was still damp. I grabbed it with my hand, the fabric sticking to my skin.

"You need to have a bath and get changed. I'll walk you back to Bowles."

"I can't go there." He started shaking, his movements making the bed vibrate. "Don't make me go there."

I leaned back, rubbing my face with my palm. Even though he was slight, none of my clothes would fit him, and it wouldn't do him any good to be seen in girls' clothes. Not after everything that had happened.

"Okay," I sighed. "You stay here. I'll go grab some clothes from your room, then I'll sneak you into our bathroom, okay?" I glanced at my watch. "It's nearly eleven, now. I should be back in half an hour or so. Lock the door behind me."

Eric nodded softly, digging in his pocket to give me his key. He mouthed a 'thank you' at me, as if he was too exhausted to even speak the words. I smiled back at him, hoping the shower would wipe the ink from his forehead, and that they hadn't used permanent marker when they so cruelly marked him.

I walked to Bowles as fast as I could, but it was longer than I hoped, and it took me forever to sneak into the dorms. Eric shared a room with two other guys, but it was empty when I got there, and I rummaged through his drawers, finding clothes that were creased, but clean. I piled them up, wrinkling my nose at the musty smell only young men could produce, thanking God I lived in an all-female dorm.

Though, a bath in an all-girl dorm wasn't going to be the most comfortable thing Eric would ever experience.

I'd barely even made it back outside when I felt a hand on my arm. I whipped my head around, half expecting to see Eric, wondering if he'd changed his mind about coming back to his dorm.

"What are you doing here? I have your clo—" My words died out when I came face-to-face with Garrett Young.

"What the hell do you want?" My words dripped with anger. He flinched, but his hold on my arm didn't falter.

"Bella, we really fucked up." He frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. I wanted to prise his fingers away from my skin. Even his touch disgusted me.

"No kidding. What the hell were you thinking?"

Garrett stepped back, finally releasing me. I held Eric's clothes close to my chest, my stomach still churning as I stared up at him.

"We didn't know they'd go so far. We told them to prey on each other's weaknesses." He took a deep breath. "I didn't think they'd do this."

"The other pledges did this?" My voice was a whisper. I shook my head slowly, hating the sight of him.

"Yes."

"You bastards." I lifted my free hand up, curling my fingers to form a fist. He caught my wrist before I could even make contact with his skin. "You broke him with your stupidity, you hurt him, you—" A sob escaped my lips and Garrett pulled me against his body, his arms wrapping around my chest.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it." His words were like a chant. I wondered who he was trying to convince; him or me.

"But you did it. You and your stupid fraternity. Did you think it was funny, bringing another guy down? Do you know what Eric goes through, every minute of every fucking day?" My blood ran hot, bubbling through my veins. "You're not even worthy to kiss his feet, you bunch of over-privileged assholes."

"I … know." The break in Garrett's voice told me to back off.

"I said it wouldn't take me very long." I looked at my watch. "It's past midnight. I've been gone for over an hour."

Garrett gently released me, brushing the hair from my face with gentle fingers. I wanted to rip them off.

"Will you tell him I'm sorry?"

I was too tired to continue my tirade, and I wanted to get back to Eric. So I nodded, and we started the slow walk back to Stern, Garrett taking the pile of clothes from my arms, neither of us able to speak as we started the approach toward the elegant building.

When we turned the corner, I heard the commotion, watching people running back and forth, shouting words that I couldn't understand. They reminded me of the way tiny, black ants used to scurry when I trod on their hills as a child, scattering in all directions, their movements not making any sense.

One word did though.

"Eric."

The anger coursed through me when I saw a large picture flapping in the breeze, and saw it was of Eric and another guy, their faces tilted as they kissed, eyes shut with sweet enjoyment.

My heart was racing.

I moved away from Garrett and started running, feet tripping over each other in my haste to get back to the hall. My breath shortened, my stomach muscles screaming from the sudden influx of lactic acid, and I had to pant to get enough oxygen into my system. My lungs burned from the exertion, but I couldn't run fast enough, my legs buckling as I moved.

Stern was a hive of angry activity. I sprinted into the entrance, pushing through the bodies, noticing that nobody was berating the guys who were lining the halls despite the curfew. My room was on the second floor, and I ran up the stairs, exhaling harshly as I made it to the landing.

When I saw all the commotion, my heart stopped. People milled, talking in low voices, their gazes drawn to my room like moths to a candle. I had no idea what was going on, but before I could even think, my mouth opened and I heard myself scream, "_Eric_!"

* * *

**A/N - I left it on a cliffie - sorry! It seemed the right place to stop. ****Thanks for all your reviews, recs and messages. They always make me so happy.**

**Love to Fran, Shelli, Sparrow and Mid for their help, this wouldn't be the story it is without them.**

**See you next Wednesday and thank you for reading. You all rock. Choc xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Miss, you can't come up here." A campus policeman reached out, curling his fingers to grasp my shoulder, stopping me from making any progress up the hall.

"Why? Why can't I go to my room?"

He shook his head, his face a picture of pity. "There's been an accident, Miss."

"What's happened?"

He shook his head again. I could feel the nausea rise from my stomach, my legs shaking as I stood there, my weight pushing against his arm.

"My friend is up there." I bit my lip hard, tasting the hard, metallic blood that seeped from the imprint. "I need to see him."

"You can't."

I swiftly ducked under his arm, running up the hallway to my room, noticing the door was wide open. Standing outside, I saw James talking to an officer, and Vicki leaned against the wall, her body crumpled as she wailed, the keening making my whole body tense.

And though he was surrounded by policemen, trying to untie the light blue sash he'd fastened around his thin neck, I could see Eric lying on the floor, his body limp and still, his face mottled and blue.

That's when my legs gave way, my body slumping to the ground, my mouth opening to let out the rage and misery I could no longer keep inside.

~*CD*~

If revenge was truly a dish served cold, then regret was a hellishly hot liquid. It lashed my insides like acid corroding metal, whipping and flailing until I became an empty vessel. I lay prone on the scratched linoleum floor, voices shouting over my head, my brain exploding with what-ifs. Each one stabbed me painfully, their ice cold tips burning me as surely as fire.

What if I'd run a little faster?

What if I hadn't spoken with Garrett?

What if I'd never agreed to go to that party?

What if ...

A cool hand touched my shoulder, fingertips brushing my neck in a feather-like touch. I looked up at Garrett, his face as full of remorse as my belly. The anger surged through me, leaving regrets like dust in the wind.

"You did this." My voice rose with the beat of my heart, white-hot fury blasting from every pore. "You and your stupid frat; every single one of you has his blood on your hands." His hand pressed harder against my neck and my fists curled, hitting his chest without my mind even thinking it through. I wanted to lash out, to hurt, to show them how wrong they were about this amazing young man.

"Are you happy now?" I screamed, cheeks wet with despair. "Have you cut your pledges down to an acceptable number?"

I whipped my head round to stare at James. He had stopped talking to the officer and was comforting Vickie, his large hands stroking russet hair, his lips murmuring unintelligible words.

"Bella ... I-" Garrett captured my wrists in his hands. I struggled against him, but even in anger my strength was no match for his.

"You thought it was funny, to watch them bring each other down, didn't you? Who cares that there are people being killed every day in 'Nam, let's just pit boy against boy. Does it make you feel more of a man?"

I managed to pull my arms away, wrapping them around my own waist, my head dropping as hot tears coursed down my skin. I wanted to curl into a ball, like an animal threatened by danger, lessening the surface area for the hurt to invade.

And boy, did I hurt.

There wasn't a part of my body that didn't ache. Even the hairs on my skin stood on end in silent protest, my nerves screaming as I tried to stop the sobs from wracking my body.

His hand touched my shoulder again, and this time I screamed. "Get off me."

"Miss, you and your friends need to leave the room."

I looked up to see the policeman staring down at me, squatting back on his haunches. His dark blue cap was at an awkward angle, the peak tipped to the right. His craggy face remained impassive below it.

"They're not my friends." My voice turned to a whisper. The steam of my anger had dissipated, leaving only misery and fear. I preferred the anger.

"You all need to leave, let the paramedics do their job." He hooked his fingers beneath my arms, pulling me up to standing.

For the first time I focused on the room. The paramedics had arrived and were leaning over Eric's body as he lay on the floor, talking rapidly, their movements careful but sure as they put instruments against different parts of his body while securing his neck. One of them called for a third to bring a gurney.

Wait ...

Their actions seemed too fast, too frantic to be aimed at a dead man.

Like a rising phoenix, hope licked its flames against my belly, my breath catching in my throat when they placed an oxygen mask over his face. They stood together, lifting Eric onto the dull-metal trolley. His arm flopped over the side. One of the paramedics placed it gently across his chest. I swear I saw it move upward.

Was he breathing?

Was he alive?

My heart hammered against my chest in a frantic rhythm, beating out a tattoo of desperation. I watched him closely, willing him to move again, begging him to give me a sign.

"Is he going to be okay?" My voice was little more than breath, but the paramedic heard me.

"I can't say, Ma'am. He's barely breathing, and I don't know how much damage has been done to his brain." He looked down at Eric, avoiding my stare as if he'd already said too much. "We've done as much as we can here, we're going to take him to the ER."

I felt the warmth of Garrett's body as he came to stand beside me. "Which hospital?"

"Alta Bates. It's the closest."

Garrett nodded sharply, his features hard as stone. "We'll meet you there."

I looked up at him through narrowed eyes, working out if I was willing to sit in a car next to him to get to the hospital.

One glance at Eric's pale skin, and the livid mark on his neck, as the paramedics wheeled him out of my bedroom, told me I was more than willing to make that sacrifice.

~*CD*~

We sat in the ER for hours, bays of seats full of the sick and injured. I chose to sit away from them, on the cool, tiled floor, leaning back on the hard wall. I didn't need a reminder of why I was there.

Closing my eyes, I tried not to think of how Eric must have felt so alone. I should never have left him. My stomach curled as I tried to imagine how he'd felt in those final few minutes, black nothingness a better alternative to his pit of despair.

People came and went from the room with low voices and lined brows, but none of them spoke of Eric, or called us over to give us a progress report. At some point I must have fallen asleep, my exhausted body giving in to the whispered demands of nothingness, lying awkwardly against the wall in an angle I would pay for later.

I'm not sure what woke me; soft words or gentle hands. I felt his arms around me, his deep voice comforting my psyche like a much-loved blanket. His rough face was streaked with tears as he pressed his cheek against my own.

"Daddy." My voice was little more than a croak. His strong arms pulled me against him, then he lifted me up, cradling my body like he used to when I was a child.

"Sweetheart." His mustache tickled my forehead, and I turned my face against his chest, wanting to disappear, to go back to a time when he was king and my life was an enchanted land protected by his watchful eye. The anger of the past few months disappeared like smoke in the air, measured words replaced by tears and love.

Pure love.

He cleaned my scrapes when I was a child. His warm breath would blow away the sting of antiseptic, lean, muscled arms making me safe and calm. As an adolescent he soothed my fears with soft words and fierce support, giving me confidence to face a world where I wasn't sure I belonged.

And now he was here. In the darkness of my foggy thoughts, he was the tiniest pinprick of light. I let him set my feet down on the floor, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my upper-arm. He frowned, his face painted with worry and concern.

"How did you know?" I whispered. When I buried my face in his scratchy jacket, the smell of detergent mingled with the smoky aroma of too many Marlboros.

"The hospital called the precinct a couple of hours ago; they wanted us to tell his parents. I brought them over." He hid his face in my hair. "I knew you'd be here."

"I saw him ... he asked me for help." My lips trembled, tears stinging at my eyes. "I let him down."

I could feel his head shake against mine. "You've never let anybody down. It's not your fault."

"I should have known, I could have stopped him."

"Bella!" The sharp tone of his retort made my head whip up to stare at him. "Stop it. I don't know why Eric did this, but we're going to find out and get him the help he needs."

He gazed across the room, and I followed his line of sight, seeing Eric's parents looking uncomfortably out of place in the bustling ER. His father was holding Mrs. Yorkie up, her scant frame buckling as a doctor spoke to them. Tears poured down my face as I watched.

"Do you know if he's okay?" I asked, my eyes still trained across the room.

"I spoke to the doctor a few minutes ago. He's stable but unconscious." His voice dipped. "They say another minute or two and he would have died."

"I wonder how he … even survived?" My voice was broken and nothing but a whisper, as I was overcome with emotion for my dear friend.

My father spoke softly, "Your roommate told the police Eric was falling to the floor as she came in the door. Her boyfriend said it looked to them like the knot had come untied. It was a short noose, tied to an exposed pipe … but, honestly, we'll never know for sure."

I covered my face as I pictured what my father described, and then I felt his arms enclose around me and a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"What we need to focus on now, sweetheart, is Eric getting better. What's done is done, and you need to be here, and be strong for him."

I knew my father was right, I did need to be here for Eric … no matter what happened.

"Will he wake up soon?" I looked up at my father's compassionate face.

Charlie's eyes softened at my question. His hand curled around mine, warm palm resting against my knuckles. He'd never been one to avoid the difficult issue.

"They don't know, but the longer he's under, the less likely it is. Until he wakes up they can't assess if there's any brain damage." His light blue eyes looked watery under the harsh lights of the waiting room. "He's lucky he got found so quickly."

I laughed harshly. "I wouldn't call him lucky." Swallowing a lump as large as a rock, my voice wavered as I continued to speak. "What can I do to help?"

"All we can do is wait. And pray."

I squeezed my eyes closed, wanting to dam the tears that were spilling over in a continuous flow.

"What happened to Garrett?" I glanced around the room, searching out his loping frame.

"Who's Garrett?" My father's voice turned suspicious. I shook my head at his unspoken question.

"He gave me a lift here. I thought he'd stay around."

"You were on your own in the corner when I got here." Daddy shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't see anybody else hanging around. Who is he anyway?"

"He's in the frat that Eric was pledging for." My eyes darted around the room as I debated with myself. Should I tell my daddy the truth about Eric? Would that be what Eric would want?

"The frat?" A note of suspicion crept into his voice. "What frat?"

"Theta Xi."

His hand tightened like a vice around mine. "Did they haze him?"

"Yes," I breathed, and having made my decision, I collapsed into my father's arms, wanting nothing more than to run away from a world where boys fought wars, and men humiliated each other for the hell of it.

~*CD*~

The week passed in a blur of hospital visits and police statements, my dad tirelessly driving me back and forth from Wentworth without a word of complaint. He'd taken me home with him at the weekend, since my own dorm was out of bounds and I couldn't face staying alone in the emergency accommodation Berkeley had offered me. The administration had agreed I could miss two weeks of lessons without detriment to my grades, the least they could do in my father's opinion.

Eric regained consciousness on the second day, though his larynx was so injured he was unable to speak. According to the doctors he'd been communicating with his hands and by blinking, but they weren't able to ascertain if there was permanent damage to his brain.

I prayed a lot that week.

I wrote too; page after page of letters. Not just to Edward, though I did pour my heart out to him, but to Angela, as well. Writing was my therapy, the way to work through the emotions that were threatening to suffocate me. The tears I cried over every word were one less I'd shed when I finally saw Eric.

It was strange, being back home in Wentworth. After a period of hiding in the house, trying to adapt to my childhood bedroom when I felt anything other than a child, I'd finally branched out, going to the diner on a Friday night to see who, if anybody, was there.

Pushing open the door, the hinges sticking in the old, familiar way, the greasy aroma hit my senses, the noisy hum of voices distracting me from my thoughts.

It was full of kids, most of whom I recognized from school, though they were younger than me. I was just a blip on their radar, somebody to stare at briefly as their eyes scanned the room, about as interesting to them as a faded poster of an old movie.

"Bells? What are you doing here?" A voice to my right made my head whip around. Riley Biers was standing by the jukebox, his long, sandy hair falling down to his shoulders, fingers scrolling through the pages of music, in search of something good.

"I'm home for a few days." I felt uncertain, not sure of how much I should share. The sooner they let me see Eric the better; at least I'd be able to ask him then.

Riley's fingers tapped out a rhythm on the glass front of the Wurlitzer. "They need to update the music," he muttered.

I laughed. It sounded strange to my ears. "This is Wentworth, not _Shindig_," I jabbed him in the side with my elbow. His ribs were hard against my bone.

"They could at least have some 'Stones or Hendrix." He flicked rapidly through the pages. "Full of fucking Monkees."

He stuffed some dimes into the machine, and they clanged as they dropped down the chute. He rapidly chose three tunes, lips quirking as his fingers pressed the buttons.

I leaned against the other side of the jukebox, feeling the warmth of the metal against my skin. "What have you been up to?"

"I've been working at the mill." He blinked a couple of times, his lashes so thick they reminded me of a camel. "Just killing time."

"You still playing guitar?"

He nodded. "Every Tuesday and Thursday at The Keller in Douglas."

"You should come over to Berkeley. I swear you'd slay the girls."

Riley rolled his dark brown eyes. "I don't think the college girls would even notice me. I'm no Einstein."

The music started up, Van Morrison's soulful voice blasting from the speakers. My lips twitched as I watched Riley's fingers form chords, his conscious brain not even realizing what he was doing.

"Hey where did we go? ... Days before the rain came ..." I started singing right along, and for the first time in weeks I could feel my heart soaring.

"Down in the hollow ... Playing the same game ..." Riley smirked, as he joined in. I wrinkled my nose and sang along with him, a grin tugging at my lips. Van kept singing about his Brown-Eyed Girl, and I was thinking of the 45 Edward sent me, feeling his absence in every cell of my body.

Riley noticed my silence. "You okay?" he asked.

"No." I flashed him a weak smile. Van started to 'shalalala'.

"You wanna talk about it?"

I shook my head slowly. "No."

He stared at me for a long minute, eyes narrowing, like he was trying to work me out. I bit my lip, liking his company, not wanting to do anything to scare him off. He was a connection to everything I missed: Edward, Angela, even poor Eric.

"We could smoke some weed?" He tipped his head in the direction of the door. I glanced over at the group of kids huddled around the booths, laughing and talking about Friday night football. My skin crawled with memories I wanted to forget.

"Yeah, sounds good."

Riley reached out and took my hand, calloused fingers rough on my skin. It reminded me of warm summer nights by the lake.

"Have you got your guitar?" I asked, pushing the door open and making the bell ring.

"It's in my car. Why?"

"You can play it while we smoke."

~*CD*~

A week later, I was back at college, in a new room with nobody to share. I didn't miss Vicki one bit, though sometimes I wondered if she was still messing around with James. Garrett was keeping a low profile, and without him following me around, or Eric to talk to, the loneliness started to strangle me. The only thing I had to look forward to was the occasional frantic telephone call, or familiar blue envelopes as they lay in my mail cubicle.

_Fort Benning, GA_

_ November 1967 _

_Dear Bella,_

_ Your letter arrived last night, just as I left the classroom. I grabbed it from the mailroom, loosening my tie for the first time that day, my lips wanting beer and my body craving you. Our instructor is getting increasingly desperate, trying to cram as much information into our brains as possible, knowing in little more than a month we'll be flying across the Pacific, and all learning will turn to dust as we face the cold reality of war._

_ It seems strange when I put it that way. Jasper tells me we should be getting our orders next week, and I'll be catching a flight sometime after Christmas, giving me little time to say goodbye to my family._

_ And to you._

_ Are you okay? You seem to be getting by, though you still sound down. I feel sick that I can't be with you when you need me. I'm glad to hear Eric's recovery is going well, though I can understand why his speech difficulties worry you._

_ Have I told you how proud I am of you? Maybe I don't say it enough, I don't know, but you are strong and clever and so fucking beautiful it makes my heart hurt. I loved the article you wrote on fraternities and the way they need to be reined in. I want to pick you up and swing you around, then drag you home to bed. _

_ I showed it to every single guy in my unit._

_ You asked me what's going on with the guys here. Jasper, as you know, is probably my closest friend. We like the same music, enjoy the same sports, and though he's from the South, he knows what it's like to have expectations laid on you by your parents. He's supposed to take over the family business when he gets back, in spite of his desperation to stay in the army. I don't know what he'll end up doing._

_Last week we had an 'Escape and Evasion' drill. They dumped us in the middle of nowhere, giving us a rendezvous location then let us run wild across the desert terrain, while rangers and special forces guys chased us. Of course they captured us, then we were taken to a makeshift 'concentration camp' where they stripped us down and made us climb into holes filled with cold water. After an hour in there, half the guys were desperate to talk. The rest of us were too cold to even move our lips. _

_ Once that was over, they piled us into a barrel and rolled us around a bit, banging on the metal exterior with sticks, the vibrations causing our heads to pulsate with pain. I'm lucky it ended at that; Jasper tells me his team was tied to crosses and given electric shocks with bare wires. Luckily I managed to escape before that began._

_ I know I'm supposed to be going to the Embassy in Saigon, but I'm still fighting tooth and nail to get a post in combat. Though I'm scared about getting captured for real-which really does seem like a fate worse than death-I can't help but feel I should be posted alongside everybody else._

_ Christ, I've just read through this and it sounds so maudlin. Most days we are fine. Being in training is no different really to being at school or studying pre-med. It's just the future that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. And as I told you before, I'm coming home, sweetheart. I'll be back with you and we'll work out our future together._

_ Okay?_

_ We have an inspection due tonight, so I need to sign off and get things tidied up. One of the guys has an old transistor radio, and he's playing it as loud as it will go. It helps us get through the long, lonely nights, and when I'm singing softly to The Doors and thinking of your sweet lips, it goes even faster._

_ I miss you. _

_ E_.

* * *

**A/N - ****Thank you for all your reviews, recs and messages. Hopefully I managed to reply to most this week. If I didn't, I'm so sorry, it wasn't deliberate.  
**

**Love to Fran, Shelli, Sparrow and Mid for their help, you are the tonic to my gin.  
**

**See you next Wednesday and thank you for reading. Lots of love Choc xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Who nuked the five and dime?" Angela put her foot firmly on the brake, making us both fall forward as the car came to a sudden halt. I glanced up from the papers on my lap, my feet braced against the dashboard, following her gaze to what remained of Main Street.

"It was more like the nickel and dollar anyway," I remarked, looking at the black smoke-scars on the shop sign. The shell of the store was open to the elements. Somebody had put a rope across it to stop people getting in, but I had little doubt it would stop anybody if they really wanted some fun.

"Where the hell am I going to get Momma's present from now?" She slapped her thigh with frustration. A smile played on the edge of my lips. Angela always left her Christmas shopping until the last minute. Delaying it until the afternoon of Christmas Eve meant she'd managed to outdo herself this year.

"Maybe you can make her something?" I murmured, crossing through the sentence I'd just written on my pad. I had so much work to catch up on since missing over two weeks of classes that I had to spend most of my time writing reports.

"Bella, you're not taking this seriously. It's," Angela glanced at her watch, "nearly 4:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve. I have no present for my mom. The five and dime was my last hope."

I choked back a laugh, not wanting to respond that it had been her first hope, too. "Maybe the drugstore might have something?" I raised my eyebrows up.

"Aaargh!" Angela curled her right hand into a fist and slammed it on the metal trim of the door. I winced; that had to hurt.

"Okay, okay." I put my papers down in the foot well, deciding my lack of attention wasn't helping matters. "Let's think this thing through. What else is open at this time on Christmas Eve and within driving distance?"

"Nowhere." Her lips curled downward. "I can't believe I do this every year. I always swear I'll buy her present in January, but never do."

I frowned. Something about that sounded really familiar. I tried to think back to this time last year. Had we gone into the five and dime after Christmas?

"Ang." She turned to look at me and I held a finger up, silencing her. "I'm pretty sure you did get something in January. I have this vague recollection of you being all full of yourself for at least a couple of days."

She shook her head. "I can't even remember last week."

I leaned back on the seat and closed my eyes. What was happening last January? I measured my life out in school days, trying to remember what the hell we were doing.

"Hey, weren't you all into westerns and stuff then? We went to see that Clint Eastwood film …" I screwed my eyes up trying to remember the name. I could feel the excitement rising as the memories came back. "And you said your mom would look amazing in a poncho-"

"And I found one downtown in that thrift store!" Angela squealed, clapping her hands together. "Now what the hell did I do with that thing?"

I shrugged. "You're on your own with that one. Can I go home and finish my report now?"

"I've been back nearly a week and I've hardly seen you," she complained, wiggling the key into the ignition and turning over the engine. "When you're not doing school work, you're hanging around the phone waiting for Edward to call." I rolled my eyes at her, daring her to continue. "I thought we'd never let a boy come between us."

I laughed. "He's not a boy." I leaned forward and switched on the radio. "Anyway, I came down to the lake with you the other night, and I promised I'd go to see Eric with you, as well."

He was still at home, and had recuperated well, but his voice still held a raspy tone as a result of crushing rope. He was now spending his days at the mill and his nights pretending to be somebody he wasn't. He'd told me he was saving his dollars; enough to move out to San Francisco and get a job in the city. I hadn't told him, but I was saving my pennies for him, too. I really wanted to see my friend be able to live the life he wanted; be who he truly was in his mind and heart.

Ang leaned forward and flicked on the old, tinny radio. The insanely catchy sound of the Monkees blasted out of the central speaker. Davy Jones' nasally tones were telling Sleepy Jean to cheer up. Angela's nose wrinkled, and I took it as a challenge, loudly singing along to the chorus, poking her every time I sang the words 'Homecoming Queen.'

She poked me back with one hand, the other firmly holding the steering wheel. I tried to grab it, but she swerved, front tires clipping the sidewalk, and we both collapsed laughing as she had to brake sharply.

"Even the kids I babysit hate the Monkees." She flipped off the radio reminded me of Garrett. Their vehemence was making me feel sorry for Pete, Mickey and the boys.

"That's because you've brainwashed them. I've never seen a six-year-old sing along to 'Paint it Black' before."

Driving more sedately, she followed the route to my house, pulling up onto the muddy bay outside the front door. My dad's cruiser was parked to the side, the fenders splattered with mud and grime. I guess he'd been busy today.

"I'll call you the day after tomorrow, okay? Have a good Christmas." I leaned forward to hug her. She tapped my back with the palm of her hand. Neither of us was particularly demonstrative.

"Don't go all European on me, just because you're a college girl now." She pushed me away, her eyes dancing.

I pushed her back, scrambling out of the car so she couldn't retaliate. She honked the horn loudly, enough to make curtains twitch over in Mrs. Johnson's house. I thought about flipping her the bird, but remembered my daddy was home.

The last thing I needed was another grounding.

~*CD*~

We were sitting in the living room of our little house. Dad was wearing a pair of stay-pressed slacks and looking awkward as he always did when out of uniform. I was lying on the center of the rug; my bare legs curled up to the side, my paisley dress clashing with the pattern of the carpet. An old Bing Crosby record played on the turntable, his deep voice scarred by low level scratches.

"Happy Christmas, sweetheart." I smiled as Daddy passed me his gift; from the large, flat, squareness of it, I could tell it was a record. I readied my happy grin, in case it turned out to be something embarrassing. As I tore off the wrapping, watching it float to the floor like an eagle's feather, I was pleasantly surprised to see the bottle-green cover of Dusty Springfield's latest release.

The phone in the kitchen rang out, echoing across the linoleum floor and into the living room. I put the vinyl down and shot Daddy a grateful smile, hauling myself up to standing and running toward the sound.

"No more than five minutes," he yelled, and I nodded quickly, pulling the door closed behind me with a gentle click.

"Wentworth 5597." My voice was breathy as I spoke down the mouthpiece. I rolled my eyes at my own dramatics.

"Hey, beautiful._"_ It was like a fire was lit under my body. My skin tingled from its warmth.

"Edward. Happy Christmas."

"It is now." His voice sounded deeper than I remembered. "How are you doing, sweetheart?"

"Great." A smile split my face clear in two. "It's so good to hear your voice."

He'd been traveling for the past few days, going home for his final leave before flying out. I hadn't thought it possible to miss him any more than I did, but once again, my heart had proved my brain wrong.

"You missed me?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess I did. I've kept busy though."

"How's the catching up going?" I could hear a buzz of voices underneath his. I wondered if there was a party going on at his house.

"I'm almost there. Just one more essay to write. I'm hoping to get it done tomorrow."

"That's good. I wanted to see you before I fly out on the fourth."

I closed my eyes. My heart was hammering against my chest; not just at the thought of seeing him again, but at the knowledge he'd be leaving. And this time he'd be going to war.

"My dad won't allow it." He'd only just let me speak with Edward on the telephone again.

"Let me talk to him."

"What? No! Edward you can't talk to him. He'll try and shoot you down the phone line."

His laughter was full of gravel. "I promise I won't say anything to make him mad."

I rolled my eyes. Edward didn't know my dad; nobody held a grudge like Charlie Swan, particularly against the guy that stole his daughter's innocence. At least that's how it played out in my father's mind.

"You won't get anywhere," I warned.

"So little faith." Edward paused patiently. "Are you going to get him, or what?"

"Now?" I squeaked. "You want to talk to him now?"

"Seems as good a time as any."

"It's your funeral."

I placed the plastic receiver gently on the kitchen counter, walking into the lounge. My father was sitting on the sofa, his legs crossed, glasses perched at the end of his nose.

"Um, Daddy?"

He glanced up at me, eyes staring over the lenses. "Yes?"

"Edward Cullen is on the phone."

Something flashed in the depths of his eyes. "I know."

"He'd … um … like to speak with you." I bit down hard on my lip. The butterflies in my stomach had turned into vicious predators. They were eating me from the inside out.

Daddy closed the book he was holding, placing it on the smoked-glass coffee table. Unfolding his legs slowly, he walked toward the kitchen, eyes meeting mine for a moment. Then he closed the door firmly in my face.

Their conversation lasted for three minutes. I timed it. Each second felt like an hour, and as they passed, the nervousness in my body increased. There was a lump in my chest so large I could hardly breathe.

Even though my ear was firmly pressed against the door I could barely make out my father's mumbled responses to whatever Edward was saying. I jumped back as soon as I made out the word "goodbye," still lingering near the kitchen, hoping he hadn't hung up.

The door opened, and he walked out, his face impassive. I wanted to demand what had just happened, what they had both said. But life, and experience, had taught me that you didn't make demands of Charlie Swan.

"You've got two minutes left." He walked back to the sofa and picked up his book.

I almost ran to the phone and picked it up. It was warm to the touch, as though my dad had been holding it too tightly in his sweaty palm.

"What just happened?" I could feel a frown pulling at my forehead.

"I'll pick you up Friday night at seven."

I shook my head a little. "You're going to do what?"

His soft chuckle caressed my ears. "I'm driving down Friday morning. I'll pick you up at seven—" He stopped suddenly. "If you want to, that is."

I loved his hesitance. "I'll check my busy diary, just a moment." Rolling my eyes, I restrained myself from jumping up and down with excitement. "It just so happens I do have some time available. I'll try to squeeze you in."

It sounded like Edward was choking.

"Okay." His words came out harshly. "Squeezing sounds good."

Ah. I'd managed to say the wrong thing again. I guessed 'squeezing him in' had other connotations to Edward.

Embarrassment heated my cheeks.

"I'll pretend I didn't say that."

"That's a shame." His voice regained its former smoothness. "Because I plan to hold you to it."

~*CD*~

The next few days passed slower than a snail in molasses, the only highlight being Daddy returning to work on the Thursday. I loved it when he worked a late shift, I would sneak down from my bedroom to turn on Peyton Place, stuffing my face with the last of our Christmas chocolates. Daddy's hatred for that program rivalled his ire toward hippies. I didn't care, I just liked staring at Ryan O'Neal.

By Friday I was pretty much a wreck. It had been nearly four months since I'd last seen Edward, and I was torturing myself with thoughts that he might not like me anymore, that I'd grown less attractive since August. What if he turned up and then drove right away again, realizing I just wasn't in his league?

Daddy hung around the house that evening, even though he was due to clock on at 6:00 p.m. I tried to hurry him up, all but putting his cap on his head and pushing him out of the door.

I knew what he was doing.

Just before 7:00 p.m. a sharp rap on the door made me sit bolt upright on our saggy, velvet sofa. Eyes wide, I looked over at my father, who slowly stood up.

"I'll get this." He motioned at me to stay seated. I wasn't sure I could stand up if I wanted to.

I watched his long, trouser-clad legs stride to the hallway, his face calm yet firm as he looked at the door. I twisted in my seat to get a better view, but the way the door opened meant I could see nothing.

Nothing at all.

I could hear him, though. His quiet voice was countered by Edward's mellifluous replies, and I could do nothing but squeeze my hands into fists, feeling my nails dig into the hard skin on my palms.

Then he walked into the room and my world stopped turning.

I wasn't sure why I'd expected him to be wearing his army uniform, but he wasn't. His shirt was distracting in its tightness, the white cotton clinging to his muscles. His biceps were bigger than before; more defined, and even the muscles in his forearm were sharp and sinewy. I felt tiny in comparison, like he could overpower me in a moment if he wanted to.

Did he want to?

All of this meant it took me a few seconds to notice his haircut. It had grown back some, since he'd had it buzzed for boot camp, but it was still short, enough for me to want to run my fingers through it. I ached to find out if it felt as good against my hands as I remembered.

"Bella." His deep green eyes never wavered from my face. I pushed myself up onto unsteady legs, walking toward his outreached hand. Like a drowning man, I grabbed at it, letting my fingers curl around his palm.

"I expect her to be home by midnight, Lieutenant." I watched as my father attached his gun holster in a slow, deliberate way. His meaning couldn't have been clearer.

"Yes, sir." Edward didn't sound at all intimidated. I, however, felt my stomach fall to the floor.

I stared at his chest, noticing the outline of his dog tags beneath his shirt. I started to reach my hand out to touch them, before I remembered my father was still in the room.

"Ready?" Edward tugged at my hand, a smile playing on the corner of his lips.

I nodded, following him out, allowing my daddy to exit behind us. His heavy boots crunched in the gravel as he walked toward his cruiser, and I stood for a moment, marvelling at the fact he was allowing me to go out on a date with Edward Cullen, without so much as a lecture.

"What did you say to him on the telephone?" I whipped around to look at Edward, curiosity shining through my expression.

He shrugged his shoulders. "We just talked." My father fired up the cruiser, a huge cloud of gassy vapour pouring out of the exhaust pipe. We watched as he swung the car around on the grass.

"About …?" I hinted, desperate to know what was said.

"It was a man to man thing. Let's just say that your dad fought for his country, and knows what it's like to leave loved ones behind."

I was floored. Not so much by my dad's reaction—after all, I knew he'd gone to fight in Korea, leaving my mom behind. It was the latter part, the 'loved ones' that made me stop in my tracks, my body shivering as I stared up at his beautiful face.

I decided to save my questioning for later.

"You okay?" He brushed his fingers against my face, his palm cupping my jaw. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"

I bit my lip, glancing down at my dress. I'd saved up enough to buy it from Sears. The pink-and-yellow fabric was tight across the bodice, then flared to an A-line, stopping at mid-thigh. I hadn't bothered wearing any panty-hose. The way the cold wind whipped my legs was making me regret my decision.

"You don't look so bad yourself," I whispered. With a shaking hand I reached out and brushed my palm against the back of his head, feeling the short hairs tickle my skin. I dug my fingers in deeper, watching his expression darken, his lips slightly open as his breath sped.

"Let's get out of here."

He didn't need to say it twice. We dragged each other to his car; a black Pontiac GTO, the front grill looking to me like two eyes, following our every move.

He opened the door and let me climb in, closing it gently behind me. His gait sped up as he walked to the driver's side, getting in and starting up the engine faster than I thought possible. I watched the muscles in his arm flex, light brown hairs reflecting the glow of the evening sun. His long fingers gripped the wheel, turning fast as he reversed onto the road.

"Where are we going?" I asked, distracted by the hard line of his jaw, lightly peppered with dark stubble. His eyes shone beneath his choppy hair; his face illuminated by the soft glow of the red-pink sky.

His lips quirked and his tongue crept out to moisten his lips. "We're going out for dinner." He winked. "Then? Who knows …"

* * *

**A/N - Thanks to Fran, Shelli, Sparrow and Mid. I appreciate everything you do.**

**Love to you all for reading and reviewing. Choc xoxo**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

I'd been to The Lodge exactly three times in my life. The first time, for my mother's funeral, I barely remembered. I got the occasional flash of a memory in my mind, but I was only four years old, so the misery of the day hadn't left enough impression for my grudge toward the restaurant to come from that.

The second time was on the occasion of my eighteenth birthday; I'd sat opposite my father and ordered the braised lamb. It had been awful, and I'd had to choke down a whole mouthful when my father's friends came over to wish me a happy birthday.

The third was better forgotten, but probably the main source of my hatred. A group of us had gone on the night of our graduation prom, and I'd spent the entire meal trying to shrink away from Mike Newton's wandering hands. Jessica had sat on the other side of him, and even if she didn't know it then, she'd already been pregnant with his baby. The shuddering thought made the memory even more distasteful than before.

So now, when Edward and I walked through the heavy wooden door, I wondered if this meal was a good idea at all. The roaring fire in the corner grate bathed our faces with a wave of shimmering heat, and the smell of roasting meat lay heavy in the air. As soon as we entered the main restaurant, my shoes clicking on the linoleum floor, I could see half the patrons turning around to stare.

Mellow voices gossiped about the 'Chief's daughter', mixing with the clinking of cutlery and the hearty laughter of men full of too much beer. It felt alien to me, like I was an animal pushed in the wrong cage at the zoo, and I looked back at Edward for reassurance.

He placed his flat palm in the small of my back, caressing me through the fabric of my dress. The corner of his lip curled up, as if he knew we were being watched, but his expression remained calm. I wondered how he managed it, this ability to stare fear in the face and ignore the consequences. Then I remembered exactly what he was facing in the future, and realized that small-town gossip in a run-down restaurant didn't exactly stack up against his own monsters.

It shamed me to know that my own fear remained.

We were led to a table in the middle of the floor, and I looked down with alarm to see more silverware than I knew what to do with. Edward pulled out the over-large, velvet chair and I sat down, letting him push it toward the table. I watched his long legs as he walked around to sit opposite me, his body loose and relaxed as he moved.

We ate a tasteless meal and endured small-town conversation with middle-aged parents of my friends. They wanted to know who Edward was, how Eric was, and whether I was enjoying Berkeley. They barely listened to my answers, their eyes roaming my face and Edward's as if they were looking for something consequential that wasn't there. My stomach clenched when I thought that maybe they were comparing us, wondering what the hell this tall, muscled soldier saw in a girl like me. Little Bella Swan, police chief's daughter; quiet and solemn and all round mouse.

I preferred the questioning glances to the lustful ones. There was a table of younger women in the corner, and their heads craned around a little too often for my liking. They glanced at Edward for much too long, their eyes narrowing as their stares moved across to me, looking curiously, as if I didn't deserve to be sitting opposite him. There was one blonde, sitting in the corner, who was making it so obvious she was attracted to him, I was surprised she didn't come over and sit in his lap.

At least that would have given me a reason to slap the admiration right off her face.

Though the food was bad, the service was good, and within an hour Edward was signing the bill and closing up the plush, leather folder. I breathed a sigh of relief when we escaped into the cold air. Fog had descended, tiny droplets clinging to my bare legs, making me shiver with cold as we walked to Edward's car.

"Well, that was successful." Edward's sardonic voice made me laugh out loud. My giggles sounded watery and desperate, like a baby caught between laughter and tears.

I squeezed his hand with mine. "At least you got to meet the good Wentworth townsfolk."

"It's all I've been looking forward to."

He pulled open the car door and I climbed inside. His fingers curled around my bare leg, and my heart stuttered. I looked down at his tan hand, strong and wide, loving the way it contrasted with my pale thigh.

"Stay around 'til Sunday and I'll take you to church. Then your experience of Wentworth really will be complete." I hoped he knew I was teasing.

Edward drove us out of town, not bothering to turn on the radio. The fog stunted our visibility, curling around the windscreen like a sleepy cat. Edward had to keep his eyes trained closely on the road ahead, straining his head forward to see through the milky-white air. The engine was throbbing with a low thrum, almost protesting at our slow progress along Forest Drive. I wondered how it would feel if Edward put his foot down on the gas and pulled the windows down low, whether I'd be scared or exhilarated. Perhaps a little of both.

I looked over at him. His profile was dark against the murky window, his nose strong and straight. His lips were fuller than I remembered, and a flush stole its way across my chest as I remembered how they felt on my body. I loved the way he always held himself straight, seemed so self-assured. He was an anchor in my stormy waters, reliable and strong. When he was around it was hard to drift off course.

"You wanna go park somewhere?" He side-eyed me, and I caught his gaze. Excitement exploded like a firework in my body, heating my belly and making my thighs ache. I'd never parked before, wasn't sure I'd ever wanted to, but there was nothing I'd rather have done right then.

"Okay." I tried to be nonchalant, but my words came out too eager and fast. He tried to swallow down a smile.

I gave him directions to the lake, telling him where to turn left on Forest Drive. Lake View was the road we were looking for, only partially made and barely passable in the winter. He maneuvered the GTO carefully along the gravelled path, the suspension protesting as we hit a watery dip. Grass had grown wild between the pebbles, its path to the sky unstinted by cars; in winter people rarely drove down here. At that time of year, the only cars to be found near the lake usually had steamed windows and excited passengers.

Parking on the grass lot just before it turned to gritty sand, Edward switched off the engine. Cold air crept around my thighs, making me shiver, moving closer to him for warmth as much as anything. Mist was layered on the lake, looking like a low cirrus cloud, dancing above the calm waters. Edward Cullen ran a teasing finger along my inner-thigh.

"I'd forgotten how soft your skin feels." He started to draw circles on my leg, putting just enough pressure to make me feel like my flesh was burning.

He leaned across, burying his face in my neck. His lips brushed against the sensitive part, just below my ear. His warm breath bathed me, making my eyes squeeze tightly shut. A low moan escaped from my lips.

"I've missed you so much." His mouth burned a trail up my jaw, kissing the corner of my lips. I cupped my hand around the back of his head, feeling his short hair grazing my palm. It was soft and blunt against my flesh. I pushed my fingers through it, tugging at it enough to make him sigh against my mouth.

His tongue blazed a trail across my lips, consuming me, begging an entrance I was all too willing to give. My mouth fell open, inviting him in, desperate to feel him inside.

He tasted of red wine and desperation. His tongue slid against mine, and I arched my back to push my chest against him, needing to feel every inch of him against me. We were both twisted; lower bodies separated by the center console, and all I could think about was the maddening way his hand caressed my thigh.

It was warm and strong, and oh so teasing. Blood pulsed between my thighs, heating my sex, making me gasp as he continued to kiss me hard and fast. I couldn't believe I'd gone for so long without feeling this; my craving for him was stronger than any drug I'd ever heard of being desired.

The car was silent, save for our harsh breaths and the sound of hands sliding against skin. Edward brushed his palm across my breast, making my nipple peak and tingle, the aching need to feel him echoed by my lingering moan.

"I want to touch you." His mouth moved against me as he spoke. His hands pushed my dress up, thick fabric bunching around my waist.

"You are."

"Everywhere."

An awkward minute followed, where Edward scrambled to my side of the car, sliding underneath me, so I straddled him on the seat. He pulled the lever to move the seat backward, the sharp, jerking movement making me all but fall on top of him. I laughed as he caught me, aligning my body, my face hovering above his.

He tugged at my dress, his face asking me a silent question. I nodded to let him know it was okay. The fabric dragged against my skin as he pulled it higher still, the neckline sliding up my face, my arms pulling away from the sleeves. My skin puckered as the cold air hit it, and he threw the dress across the car.

"You cold?" He ran his palms over my bare stomach. I stopped myself from covering my body with my arms, feeling exposed in just my panties and bra. My skin was pale and cool, tight enough to show the ridges of my ribcage. I wondered how he ever found it attractive.

Edward pulled his t-shirt over his head then wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me against him until my chest was crushed to his. I curled my arms around his shoulders and lowered my face to the soft dip between his neck and shoulders. Inhaling deeply, I breathed him in, closing my eyes as I savored the flavor of his skin.

"Body heat, the quickest way to warm up," he whispered in my ear. "Basic training comes in useful."

I laughed, tipping my head back so I could kiss him, capturing the vapor clouding from this breath. My knees straddled his thighs, my inner thighs brushing against his pants, my core warm against his groin. I wondered if he could feel how excited I was; how much I wanted him.

"The army has a lot to answer for." I leaned back and pushed my hands against his chest, fingers lingering on his scant hairs, brushing over his nipples. He dropped his head back against the seat, his hips thrusting against me, and I felt him; hard and insistent, between my thighs. As he closed his lips around my breast, mouth and tongue soaking the fabric of my bra I felt pleasure spike in my core, making me slick with anticipation.

"I need you." I was embarrassed enough to whisper it softly in his ear, and I felt his cheek plump up with a smile against my own. He knew exactly what to do to reassure me, to make me feel it was okay to want him so badly.

He slid his hand inside my panties, and my thigh muscles contracted, forcing him deeper, higher, harder. I bit my lip to stop my eyes from rolling to the back of my head as he gently pushed a finger inside me. His eyes were heated and dark, boring into my skull like some kind of laser.

"Christ, you're wet."

I blushed again. I was hovering somewhere between ecstatic and mortified, knowing he could feel every response my body made. Then he touched me again, and I forgot about everything but his fingers and my desire.

Reaching down between my thighs, I tried to unzip his pants, needing to feel his hard heat pulsing in my hand. Somehow our arms got tangled, and my bare wrists were caught between his cuffed ones. He withdrew his fingers from inside me and my lips formed a pout.

He curled his fingers around my panties, tugging them until they caught on my hips. I wriggled out of them, lifting one leg then the other, watching them drop into the footwell. A moment later he pulled at his zipper, lifting his hips enough to release his hot, hungry manhood from his shorts.

"Do you have something?" I whispered it quietly, biting my lip. It was a little too late to be asking that sort of question.

"In my pocket." He withdrew the rubber, and I kneeled back on my heels, watching as he took hold of himself and rolled it on. His manhood slapped back on his stomach as soon as he let go, and he circled his arms around my waist, pulling me closer until my groin was touching his.

"Like this?" My voice was as high as my shocked eyebrows. I'd assumed he'd take me on the back seat. I'd heard about other positions, listened to giggling discussions in the shared living room of my dorm, but I'd never imagined I'd be trying anything like that tonight.

Edward's grin was lazy, eyes heavy-lidded as he nodded slowly. "Just like this, baby. I'll make you feel good, I promise." His last word was muffled as he buried his face in my chest, moving his lips against the gentle swell of my breast. I stroked his hair, pushing him closer, wanting to feel him inside me.

A moment later he wrapped a hand around himself, dragging his tip against my thighs until it brushed my entrance. I stifled a groan as he hit a sweet spot, my whole body tense as I waited for more. I was frozen with anticipation, my thighs stiff and tight. I'd waited too long to feel this again.

"You need to move, sweetheart." With his other hand he grasped my right hip, encouraging me lower. I pushed down and felt myself open up to him, the pain of last time a distant memory. His fingers were still grasped around his base as I moved, and the intense fullness of his body inside mine made me moan.

As my behind touched his thighs, my eyes shot up, meeting his heated stare. One of his fingers reached out, dragging through my slickness, teasing me where I needed it most. He cupped his other hand over my jaw; thumb softly brushing against my bottom lip. I felt flayed, exposed, emotions bubbling out of me like soda from a fountain.

"Edward …" It felt like electricity was shooting through my body, making my nerve endings pulse and my muscles contract. His breaths turned harsh, a low echo of my own short gasps, and we reached a rhythm that neither of us was willing to stop. A rivulet of perspiration trickled down my cleavage, winding its way down my belly, and the heat from our skin fogged all the windows opaque.

I dug my fingers into his shoulders, pushing harder as I felt pleasure coiling in my stomach, my thighs trembling and needy as I started to plateau.

"Don't stop." His plea wasn't needed; I'd reached the point of no return. My gasps increased as passion exploded between my thighs, convulsing through my body like a series of detonations. I moaned long and loud, not stopping when he captured my lips with his own, my mouth vibrating as he swallowed my sighs.

Moments later, when he followed me into ecstasy, his hips thrusting upward and his lips muttering my name, I knew I'd never love anybody as much as I loved Edward Anthony Cullen.

~*CD*~

When I was thirteen, my father took me into town, to Smollensky's Ice Cream Parlor for my birthday. I ordered the 'Meteoric Melter'; a huge sundae made from five different types of ice cream, complete with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. In the days running up to our visit, I'd laid in bed, dreaming of the sugary sweetness as it clung to my lips, practically salivating as I imagined the ice cream cooling my tongue.

I was so excited that my feet tapped out a tune as we sat in the booth, my chubby hand already curled around the long spoon. My fevered impatience made my daddy smile beneath his thick, black mustache.

When the tall glass arrived, I ate too quickly, my eagerness to dive in outweighing any sense of self-preservation. After a few gobbled spoonfuls, my stomach started to contract in protest, my body battling with my mind's desperation for more. My father teased me, saying my eyes were too big for my belly and I needed to show some restraint.

It turned out; it wasn't only ice cream that I liked to gorge on.

As I sat on the deserted, fog-blanketed beach, watching Edward throw stones into the lake, I was reminded of my childhood greed, my desperation to have more. Just like then, there was a sinking feeling pulling at my stomach, a reminder that avarice was my biggest fault. Edward was standing a few steps away from me, his profile made hazy by the fog. Even in the half-light I could see his jaw set and firm as he stared into the distance.

He'd barely said a word since we'd pulled our clothes back on, our skin shivering at the withdrawal of body heat.

He'd been standing there for a while, not meeting my gaze, buried somewhere in his own thoughts as he stared across the lake. He flicked his wrist and another pebble skimmed the surface, the tiny splashes waking the lake from its winter slumber. My heart ached as I watched him, our desperate intimacy of minutes before replaced by an invisible barrier.

I didn't know how to break through.

"I shouldn't ask you to wait for me." His words cut like a razor through the foggy night. They made me bleed, the pain of his words digging at my heart.

"You don't have to ask." My voice was thick with emotion.

He turned to look at me, his skin sepia under the diminished moon. I could taste his regret in the air along with the dampness of the fog. It made me feel nauseous.

"I can't guarantee I'm coming back."

Fear lumped in my throat like an un-chewed piece of meat. I tried to swallow, but it just brought tears to my eyes. I'd only just gotten him back, I couldn't lose him again. I needed to show him how much I needed him.

I sat on my hands to stop myself from fisting them. I wanted to hit against his chest until the stupid left it. Didn't he know what he meant to me?

"I'll wait anyway."

Something made a big splash on the far side of the lake. It took a minute for the waters to calm, and he looked out to see what it was. I licked my dry lips, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm going to fight a war against people who've done nothing to harm me, alongside kids who can't even vote against the bastards who sent them over there." His arm whipped as he threw another stone. It skimmed halfway across the water. "And I can't even remember why I'm doing this." His voice broke.

So did I.

I was certain my heart and soul broke in that very moment.

My body stiffened against the cold. I pulled his jacket a little tighter around my shoulders, bringing my legs closer to me in an effort to stave off the chill. We stared at each other for a long minute, his desperation meeting my fear. Blood ran through my veins like a river of ice.

A tear slid its lonely way down my cheek. I wasn't sure he could see it, in the gloom and the fog, but his face looked like he knew. How had things changed so quickly, from ecstasy to misery? Everything we did, every action between us was so full of emotion, but taking the rough with the smooth hurt like hell.

Sharper than a knife, and blunter than a hammer; our situation was slowly killing us.

My hands grew numb under my behind, and I pulled them out, skin fizzing as the feeling came back. I wiggled my fingers, encouraging the blood to flow.

"I won't let you go." The words escaped my lips, exploding in the air. He drew closer, his features pulled into a confused frown.

"Bella ..."

I stood and gathered him in my arms, pulling his hard torso to me. His hands grabbed my waist, as strong as iron, and I remembered the way they'd held me while I rode him.

"This isn't over. It's only just begun." I bunched his shirt in my hands, my fists full of fabric. His chin rested on my head, and I could feel the tension there, like every muscle was ready for action. I breathed him in, wanting to taste him, needing him to know how much I cared.

His head dipped as he kissed me hard. Our cold noses touched as I angled my face, and my fists loosened until my palms brushed against his stomach.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me." His words whispered against my lips. "I fucking love you, and it's killing me."

In the dead of night, the tiniest candle could look like a burning torch. Edward Cullen's words lit up my world like the glare of a thousand suns. My eyes stung as if he was blinding me.

I cupped my hands around his cheeks, his face inches from mine as I stared at him, my expression an open book. He was my North Star, the axis around which my world turned. My night and my day.

For the first time since we'd left the car, it felt like things were going to be okay.

I kissed him as hard as he was kissing me. "I love you, too."

~*CD*~

The following morning I discovered the true price Edward paid for being allowed to take me out for a date. I was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to glue down the peeling, yellow Formica, when my father walked in, carrying his fishing boots and hat. I looked up, my lips twitching with amusement.

"Are the fish even biting when it's this cold?" My voice was teasing but the words were not. He had to be crazy; the fog had turned freezing out there.

"Billy Black tells me the steelheads are jumping in the Goldacre River. Gonna go see for myself." He reached a hand into the icebox. When he pulled it out he had a box of maggots in his palm, and I tried not to squirm at the thought.

I put the glue bottle down on the side, my fingers still clamping Formica to wood. I'd need to keep it there for at least five minutes to make it stick. "Are you going with Billy?"

His jaw hardened. "No. I'm taking Edward Cullen."

I whipped my head around to stare at my father. My heart about stopped beating. "Daddy, no. Please no."

"We made a deal," he replied, pulling his hat down low over his brow. I wanted to stand up and shout at him, but the glue wasn't dry. "He agreed to go fishing with me if I allowed him to take you on a date." He leaned forward and chucked me under the chin. "I kept up my end of the agreement."

I huffed, wondering whether to be mad at my daddy or Edward. They both needed their heads knocked together.

"Please don't do anything to him." There was a whiny base note to my voice. "He's important to me."

My father stopped what he was doing long enough to stare at me. The corner of his left eye twitched as he searched my face with his eyes. Tipping his head to one side, I watched as a slow smile pulled across his mouth.

"I know that, Bella. And that's exactly why I'm taking him out to the river."

* * *

**A/N - Thank you for reading! Lots of love to Shelli, Sparrow, Mid, Cared and Fran for all their help. Have a great week, y'all, and we'll catch up soon! Choc xoxo**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

It was late afternoon when my father and Edward got back from fishing. The fog had lifted, revealing an overcast, grey sky, weighed down by heavy rain clouds. There was a pressure in the air, the sort that made old men's knees throb and my head hurt, and I wondered if a storm was brewing.

I was sitting in the kitchen, watching the back door when my father walked in. His hair and face were damp from being outside for so long, small beads clinging to the brown-grey strands, and misting his face. Despite the effects of the weather, his face held a calm look, a peaceful one. I liked that a lot.

I closed my text book, the action sending a puff of dusty particles into the air. I'd borrowed it from Wentworth Library, and from the card, I could tell I was the first person to read it in a good few years.

"Where's Edward?" The words escaped my lips before I could think them through. I looked beyond the door and into the misty outside, not able to see anybody else out there.

Daddy raised his thick eyebrows, shrugging his heavy coat from his shoulders. "Carrying the equipment to the shed."

I squinted through the half-light, trying to locate him in the garden. "He's still alive then?"

Daddy laughed. "For now." He hung his clothes on the hook by the door and ran his hands under the kitchen taps.

"Did you catch any fish?" He seemed in too good a mood for them not to have bitten. I ran through my mental list of fish dishes; pie, broil or fish fry. I hoped he hadn't caught too many.

"He's bringing them in, too. Said he'd gut and scale them." There was just a hint of something in his voice. It wasn't quite admiration, but seemed more than tolerance.

"You're really making him pay, aren't you?" I stood up and dismantled our Sunbeam coffee pot. Taking it to the sink, I filled the stainless steel jug from the tap. The action calmed me, allowed me to breathe a little easier.

"I'm just passing on the knowledge." He reached up to his moustache, his thumb smoothing errant hairs. His voice turned sombre. "Survival skills are always good things to have, especially for a young man, like Edward, going out into the _real_ world."

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. "I'm not sure there'll be much call for fishing in the center of Saigon."

My father reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, his fingers cold through the thin fabric of my dress. He squeezed gently, his expression soft. "Don't underestimate where he's going, Bella. There are no guarantees here."

I pulled back, blinking away the threatening tears. Trying to keep my fingers busy, I put the filter into the brewing pot, adding bitter coffee granules on top of the muslin. Screwing the contraption back together, I plugged it in. Not once did I look at my father. I wasn't sure I'd be able to hide my fears if I did.

My nose itched and I reached up to rub it. The room was silent save for the mellow bubbling of the coffee pot, and I watched it vibrate on top of the wooden work surface, the shiny metal misting as the water boiled.

"You want a coffee?" My voice was low, and it hurt my throat to talk. Edward was taking his time unloading the truck and I wanted to run out to see him, but the way my father was hovering around the kitchen made me hesitate. I didn't want to look too desperate.

Even if I was.

"Sure." Daddy pulled out a chair and sat down, unfolding the evening paper with his large, worn hands. "It'll take the chill from my body."

The back door yanked open, the hinges sticking a little, and Edward walked in. Our eyes caught and I lost my breath. His hair was shiny and damp and I reached up to touch it, feeling the beads of moisture clinging to his strands. My fingers stayed there a little too long, enough for my father to clear his throat loudly. Enough for me to snatch my hand back and ignore Edward's amused grin.

"How many did you catch?" I saw that Edward had left the bucket outside. My nose wrinkled as the pungent smell wafted through the kitchen. It made my stomach twist and turn like a rollercoaster at the summer fair.

"Ten big ones. We threw the little ones back." Edward reached out to touch me then jerked his hand back. It was my turn to smile; I guessed his fingers reeked of steelhead.

"We'd better clean them up." I pulled a knife from the drawer, grabbing a bowl to stash the guts in. Edward watched my movements with a considered expression, his lips slightly open. I yanked open the back door." Are you coming or what?"

"You know how to clean them?"

Charlie snorted.

I shot him a look then smiled sweetly at Edward. "Been doing it every weekend since I was four."

My father left us to it when we walked outside. I guess he assumed we couldn't get up to much, sitting outside in late December, gutting fish and removing scales. The weather stuck to my skin as I carried the equipment, and Edward brought the bucket of fish. I covered the table with old newspaper, knowing just how hard it was to scrub out the smell. I worked fast, showing Edward how to clean the steelhead with the minimum of fuss, trying not to heave when I touched the innards.

Two steelheads were done when I handed him the knife, watching as he curled his palm around the handle and lined the blade up with the fish. I couldn't stop myself from laughing when he cut too hard and managed to get the insides all over himself.

He glanced up at me, trying not to smile. "Shut up, Elly Mae Clampett. I'm trying my hardest here."

I laughed harder, taking the gory knife from his hands, demonstrating on the fourth fish the way to do it. I dragged the blade along again, using just the right pressure, wrinkling my nose as the skin fell open.

"I want you to meet my family," he said softly. I looked up from the fish, unable to keep the surprise from my face.

"You just compared me to a hillbilly. Are you sure they'd like me?" It was all I could think of to say. The Cullens were a well-established, Seattle family. God only knew what they'd think of this cop's daughter.

He leaned forward until his forehead touched mine. I laid the knife in the bowl, wishing my hands weren't covered in blood and scales. I wanted to touch him in the worst way.

"They're meeting me at Travis Air Force Base. Let me take you up there; I'll ask my brother to give you a lift home." He gazed at me through thick eyelashes. I could feel my heart banging against my ribcage.

"Have you told them about me?"

He rubbed his nose against mine, angling his head until our lips were barely touching. "They know I have a girl." I could feel every word vibrating through my body.

Fear gripped my stomach like an iron fist. I'd read about the Cullen family, about his Congressman father and socialite mother. I knew his brother had political aspirations of his own, and that he and his wife Rosalie were seen as the golden couple of Washington State. I couldn't see how they could ever approve of a student activist from Wentworth, CA.

His lips captured mine. They moved softly, as if we had all the time in the world. I closed my eyes, hoping to hell that my father was still reading the newspaper.

"Come with me." His words were as insistent as his mouth. They both made me melt inside.

"Okay." I breathed against him.

He was so close I could feel his eyelashes brush my skin as he blinked. His tongue slid inside my lips, moving wetly against my own, and I felt a spark of excitement light up my core. His kisses made it easy to forget the world existed beyond him.

~*CD*~

The sun came up the next morning, like she hadn't received my memo, and her brightness only served to highlight the blackness of my gloom. I sat on the curbside, next to Angela, my body unyielding and stiff as we watched and waited.

"You okay?" She pushed me softly with her shoulder.

I tried to smile. "Not really."

"I guess not."

It was cold despite the sun, and I pulled my sweater a little tighter around me. Angela was humming a song I couldn't quite make out, and I didn't have the energy to question her on it. It was comforting anyway.

I could hear his car before I saw it. The loud throb of the engine cut through the morning air. I squinted as I looked eastward up our road. "Is that them?"

He was bringing Ben with him, having offered the loan of his car while he was away. I didn't know how I'd feel seeing it around town, watching Ben driving his black Pontiac while he was in another country, fighting another war.

"Looks like it." Angela pushed herself off the sidewalk, her legs staggering a little as she regained her balance. I took her proffered hand, allowing her to pull me up alongside her. She squeezed my hand tightly.

I opened my mouth to talk but there was nothing to say. Instead I stood there gaping as the car came to a stop in front of us. And then everything, including my mind, went in slow motion.

Edward lithely exited the car, walking around it in long strides, as he approached me.

He was in uniform.

It fit him like a tailored suit.

I just about died on the spot.

My gaze rose slowly up, taking in his high-shine shoes, crisply-pressed pants and thick, woollen jacket. His tie was neatly knotted, shirt collar stiff against his neck. I moistened my lips, unable to tear my eyes from him, loving and hating the way he looked.

Loving, because he looked beautiful.

Hating, because his uniform meant he was no longer mine.

He reached out a hand and leaned against the car, cocking his head as he stared at me. I watched his gaze sweep lower, as he took in my short dress and long legs, still slightly tanned from the hot summer, even though it had long since passed.

"Hey." The corner of his lip quirked. He ran a hand across his short hair.

"Hi."

"You coming over here?" He raised an eyebrow. I chewed my lip, unsure whether I was being dazzled by him or the sun. I didn't want to tell him I couldn't move. My legs felt weighed down by lead, feet glued to the floor. I blinked twice, trying to remind myself it was only Edward.

But all I could see was Lieutenant Cullen.

Angela shoved me in the small of my back and I stumbled forward. All hopes of seeming sophisticated turned to dust as my feet scuffed the dusty tarmac, my legs staggering to regain my balance. I whipped my head around to shoot her a glare, then composed my features, turning back to Edward with a smile playing at my lips. "I'm coming."

He laughed loudly. His head tipped back and his grin widened as he watched me move toward him. When I was within a few feet he reached out a hand and grabbed me, pulling me against the itchy fabric of his coat. "You took your time." He wasted none of it as he pulled me closer still, curling his fingers under my chin and lifting until my face was inches away from his lips.

"Good things in life are worth waiting for." I said it quietly. I wasn't just talking about today.

"Yes they are." He lowered his face to mine, barely brushing my lips with his own. I flung my arms around him, grasping at his collar, needing him ever closer.

My fingertips brushed his hair. It reminded me of our rubbing velvet, the strands soft yet stiff beneath my touch.

"I miss your long hair," I murmured into his lips. I felt him smile against me.

"Is that all you're gonna miss?" His fingers dug into my behind, pulling our bodies tightly together, enough for me to feel him outlined against my stomach. I wanted to reach down and curl my fingers around him, watch his mouth drop open as he sighed softly. Maybe I would have if we didn't have company.

"Most probably." I opened my lips, inviting him in. His tongue slid smoothly inside, his fingers dragging up my sides, making me shiver. I wanted him to pull me into his car and drive me to the lake.

"We've gotta go, man." Ben punched Edward on the arm. He pulled back from me, turning to his friend, a stupid grin shaping his mouth. We walked to the car; our hands curled together, our sides touching.

"We're meeting my brother in Fairfield. He's gonna drive us into the base."

"And your parents?" I wasn't worried about meeting Emmett Cullen. It was Congressman and Mrs. Cullen I was anxious about.

"Meeting us there."

I squeezed his hand tighter, liking the way he said 'us'. "Then let's go."

Angela and Ben rode in the back while I took shotgun, leaning against the soft black leather seat. Edward drove smoothly; his left hand gripping the large brown steering wheel, his right curled around my thigh. He didn't want to let go for a moment, making me shift gears for him so he could keep his hand where he wanted it. Every time our eyes caught I could feel excitement buzzing in the air; if it wasn't for Ben and Angela I swear I'd have done something I'd later regret.

When we got to Fairfield, we all clambered out. Edward and Ben hugged tightly, unafraid to show their emotions. I felt tears prick my eyes as they talked seriously to each other. Edward promised to be safe, and Ben vowed to take care of me for him.

Angela just punched me on the leg. "I'll see you back home, okay?"

I nodded, my throat too full to speak. I tried to hit her back but missed, my fist only connecting with the edge of her skirt. I reminded myself I owed her one.

Edward's brother pulled up a few minutes later. He climbed smoothly out of the car, his eyes sweeping up and down as he appraised me. I searched in vain for any sign of resemblance between the two of them, but in his expensive, dark suit, with his hair oiled and coiffed, he looked so much different, not to mention, older.

His face was almost expressionless. "Edward." He reached out and shook his brother's hand. It was such a contrast to the way Edward and Ben behaved, more formal and unbending.

"Emmett." Edward pulled his hand away first, curling it around my shoulder. "I'd like you to meet Isabella Swan."

I wondered why he felt the need to use my full name. He never had done before. I wasn't sure I liked it, the same way I didn't like it when my father called him 'lieutenant'. Those words just didn't describe the people I knew we were; to each other or anyone else.

"It's a pleasure, Isabella." Emmett took my hand and curled his fingers around, shaking lightly. His pale blue eyes met mine.

"Likewise." I shook back more firmly. It shocked him, I thought.

"We'd better hurry. Dad's got some meetings this afternoon." Emmett pulled open the door and I climbed in the back. Edward sat in the front beside him. I already missed his hand holding mine tightly. A wave of nausea hit my stomach when I realized he might not do it again for another year.

As we drove toward the gate, they made small talk about friends and acquaintances I'd never heard of. I stared at the back of Edward's head, having to sit on my hands to stop me from reaching out to touch his hairline, to run my fingers down his neck. Each second that passed seemed like I was wasting it, not being able to feel his skin. I wondered if he felt the same.

"They said there would be trouble." Emmett's voice was low as we came to a halt at the gate. The road was covered with protesters; young men with long hair and slogans scrawled across t-shirts, and younger girls with short skirts and wild hairstyles. They shouted and chanted as the car moved slowly forward, staring in through the window and homing in on Edward as soon as they saw his uniform. I glared at them, feeling anger bubbling inside me like a hot geyser, wanting to open the window and shout at them, tell them just what kind of a man Edward was.

Because he was a good man. Somebody with morals and beliefs that would put their own chants to shame.

The man I loved.

He didn't deserve their anger.

Thankfully we were through the gate in a matter of minutes, and the protesters were stopped from getting anywhere on the base itself. Emmett maneuvered the car along the concrete road, heading for the airfield on the far side of the base.

"You need to know something." He turned to look at Edward. His voice was deeper than his brother's, yet somehow harsher. It didn't caress your ears, but made you take notice. I could imagine him commanding the senate when he spoke.

"Yeah?" Edward had lowered the window and was leaning his arm on the door. The sun reflected off his sunglasses, casting a dancing ball of light onto the dashboard.

"Dad's arranged for _Seattle Life_ to take some photos. They're running an article on your signing up to fight."

"They're what?" Suddenly, Edward's voice sounded harsher, and suddenly the family resemblance was stronger.

Emmett tapped the wheel with his hand. "Just a couple of pictures. He's up for re-election next year." He said it as if that explained it all.

"He doesn't even want me to go to Vietnam."

"You gave him lemons, he's making lemonade." Emmett's laugh was harsh. "It's the best of a bad job."

Edward's sigh was loud. "Two pictures, that's all. And leave Bella out of it."

Emmett turned to look at me. His ice-blue eyes froze me to my seat. "We will."

The airfield was teeming with soldiers, kit bags hoisted on their shoulders, caps rolled in their hands. A few had their families with them; pretty, young wives were weeping, tiny, grubby faced children were clinging. The majority were alone, having said goodbye in Wichita or Wyoming, the flight to Manila just another stage in their journey to hell.

I couldn't tell which option was better. They all looked pretty miserable.

"Over here." A voice called from the corner of the field, where an area had been cordoned off. A distinguished man with steel-grey hair was being photographed and talking to a journalist, who scribbled rapidly on a small notepad.

"Stay here, okay? This won't take long." Edward's smile was forced. "Emmett, keep an eye on her."

Emmett smirked. I looked up at him, seeing his eyes trained on my legs. I shuddered, feeling uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny. There was something about him that made me feel uneasy, reminding me a little of the frat house party I'd visited the previous fall. I would have bet my bottom dollar that Emmett Cullen had been in a fraternity when he was at college.

I inched away from him, watching as Edward shook his father's hand. The two of them posed for some photographs, then the journalist asked him some questions. I could see him getting more frustrated, as he tried to explain himself, only to be spoken over by his father.

I was beginning to understand the difficult relationship between the two of them. It was clear Congressman Cullen never listened to a word his son said.

"Edward's asked me to take you home." Emmett managed to drag his gaze from my legs. I thanked God I managed to keep my chest well covered with a high-neck—his eyes were forced to assault my face instead.

"That's very kind of you." I started to fiddle with the hem of my dress, fingers playing with the raw fabric. I stopped as soon as he began to stare at my hand.

"It's my pleasure."

I swallowed hard. The last place I wanted to be was sitting next to Emmett Cullen for an hour. He was Edward's brother, but he made me shudder worse than fish guts. "Is your wife not with you?"

"Rosalie's at home with our son. She knows her place." His smirk grew. I curled my nails into my palm to stop myself from wiping it straight off his face. Did Edward know what a douche his brother was? I'd only just met him and I wanted to grind his face into the dry, red earth.

"That sounds very 1950s." I flashed him a fake smile.

"Let's just say I'm not as open-minded as my brother." His lip curled up.

I opened my mouth to reply, but Edward's reappearance stole the words right out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry about that. You okay?" He pulled me against him. I tried to damp down my anger. I didn't want him going to war thinking I hated his family.

Even if I did.

"I'm good." Looking up into his dark green eyes, my smile was genuine. In his arms, Emmett's chauvinist remarks held about as much importance as flies to an elephant.

"Come and meet my folks." Taking my hand, he walked me over to his parents. I was relieved to see the photographer and reporter had left. His parents were standing alone, and there was a gap between them large enough to drive his car through.

"Mom, Dad, this is Bella." Edward wrapped an arm around my waist. "Bella, this is my father, Carlisle, and my mom, Esme."

Carlisle looked at me over half-moon glasses. He reached out a hand, and I shook it briefly, feeling nervous as he scrutinized me. His fingers were bony and long, but they held a strength that made me wince.

"It's a pleasure." His mother smiled, her frosted, pink lipstick stretching along with her lips. She was wearing a deep red suit with a matching pillbox hat. I wondered if she was modelling her image on Jackie Kennedy, circa 1962.

"Pleased to meet you." I gave them both a small smile. I felt like I could die of nervousness. I didn't want them to hate me.

"Edward tells me you're at Berkeley?" Carlisle patted the back of his hair. "I hear Ron Reagan put those protestors in their place."

I swallowed. "There's been some ... ah ... tension." I wasn't going to tell him exactly what I thought of the California governor. That was a discussion for another time, another place. Preferably with another person.

"If students got busy studying, maybe the country would be a better place to live," Emmett interrupted, his self-assurance starting to annoy me. I could feel my blood start to boil. I gave Edward's hip an apologetic squeeze.

"If our leaders got busy leading, perhaps we wouldn't have to protest."

Edward coughed out a laugh. His hold on me tightened, and he dipped his head to place a kiss in my hair. "And that's why I love you." His words were quiet, just enough for me to hear. I liked that they were mine to hide in my heart.

A loud call from the hard-standing area told us it was time for Edward to go. He hugged his mother tightly, wiping away her tears, then shook his father and brother's hands. Placing his cap firmly on top of his short hair he pulled me with him toward the plane, putting some space between us and his family.

Stepping in front of me, he touched me under the chin with his thumb, causing me to look up at him. His eyes looked wild, like something was fighting beneath the surface. "Life goes on, okay?" He brushed his lips against mine.

I shook my head. "Not without you."

A tear slipped out of my eye, burning my skin.

"Bella." His voice cracked. "You're a fighter. I want you to go out there and fight just as hard as I will."

I frowned, my fingers playing with his lapels. "How can I fight?"

"Work hard, speak out, protest." He leaned his forehead on mine. "I saw how awkward you were looking at those protestors outside the gate. I don't want you to feel conflicted."

From the corner of my eye, I could see soldiers climbing onto the plane. I knew we only had a few moments left. the lump in my throat made it hard to speak. "You want me to protest?"

He cupped my cheek with his palm. His skin was rough against mine. "I want you to be true to your beliefs. I'm staying true to mine."

My stomach rolled just thinking about it. I hated the war more than ever. Before my cousin died it had seemed an annoyance; something to speak out against, but not something that affected my life. Now Grady had gone, and it was stealing Edward away from me, it had grown in my mind to be an evil ogre. I wasn't sure I was strong enough to slay the giant.

"Okay." I tried to smile. "I'll stay true, if you stay safe."

"I'll do my best."

A final call. He hugged me tightly, my body molding against his chest. I cupped my hands around his face, trying to memorize the sensation of his skin against mine. My lips were wet with tears as we kissed, and we could both taste them.

"I'll write." He pulled away, eyes sparkling in the winter sun. I nodded dumbly, unable to speak. I was afraid it would come out as a sob. Misery suffused every cell of my body, strangling any semblance of hope, replacing it with darkness. With fear.

"Baby, don't cry." He reached out to stem my tears. I bit my lip hard, not wanting my weeping to be his last memory of me. With some deep breaths, I managed to compose myself enough to find my voice.

"I love you. If you don't come back safely, I'll hunt you down."

"If I don't come back, I hope you do." His breath was hot against my cheek. "I love you, too. Don't forget it."

I watched him walk toward the Pan Am airplane, destination Manila. His broad back was poker straight beneath his jacket, and I felt a stab of pride at the way he bore himself. I straightened my own spine, wiping my eyes before I turned to look at his brother.

It was time to take a ride with Emmett Cullen.

* * *

**A/N - Thanks to Fran, Mid, Sparrow and Shelli for their help, and to you for reading. Chapter 15 will be up next week; same time, same place. And Edward will be gone :(**

**Choc xx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Are you having sex with my brother?" Emmett said the words so casually, like he was asking me if I wanted something to drink. It took a moment for their meaning to sink through my consciousness, for me to realize exactly what he had said. As soon as I did, my cheeks flushed red as a strawberry, and my breath caught in my throat. I turned to stare at him, but Emmett kept his eyes firmly glued to the road as he maneuvered his car through the security gate. Ever the politician, he flashed a toothy grin at the guard as we left the Air Base. I shook my head, trying to work out if he really asked what I thought he did.

I couldn't reconcile his dirty, accusing mouth with the all-American smile, the brushed-back, oiled hair, and the casual tan that kissed his skin. He looked like he should be starring in a toothpaste commercial, not interrogating me about my relationship with his brother.

"I'm sorry, what?" My heart was hammering against my ribcage. I must have misheard. Maybe it was the stress of the day, and the sick feeling in my heart that had made me hear what wasn't said.

Then he spoiled all my justifications, opening his crass mouth and inserting a metaphorical foot. "Are you rolling with my brother?" He said it slowly, as if I was an idiot. I couldn't look him in the eye. If we'd been travelling slower, I would have wrenched open the door and thrown myself into the gorse bushes lining the road to avoid his question. As if he was reading my mind, he'd picked up speed as we drove down the dusty road, heading for the highway.

I was mortified.

"It's none of your business." My skin was crawling, sitting next to him. I fought the urge to scratch at my flesh.

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart." From the corner of my eye I could see him staring at me. I edged my ass along the seat until I was as far away from him as I could get. I wanted to disappear into the leather upholstery, or close my eyes and be home already. Anywhere would be better than Emmett's car. "What my brother does is definitely my concern. It affects our entire family, our political future."

"Edward doesn't want a political future." My voice was low, but there was a warning in there I wasn't sure he could hear. I could feel my blood start to boil as anger heated it up like a camping stove.

"It's not his choice." Emmett's voice was firm and definitive. "When he gets back from 'Nam, he's going to be running my campaign for Congress. Any scandal reflects badly on me." And there it was, the real reason Emmett Cullen was trying to warn me off. I wasn't good enough for him, so I wasn't good enough for his brother.

I frowned, trying to process my thoughts. "Edward's planning to go to medical school when he comes back." It was the one thing he wanted, what we'd talked about before he'd left. It made me so furious that his family could dismiss his wishes so easily. He was like a pawn on a chessboard, so easily picked up and moved, to suit somebody else's strategy.

No wonder he'd wanted to leave them all.

"He's always been an idealist. Maybe fighting against the gooks will snap him out of it." Emmett wound down his window and leaned his arm on the door. Cool air rushed in, stinging my skin, making me gasp.

I'd never been so uncomfortable in my whole life. I squirmed on my seat, trying to deal with the unease that suffused through my body like smoke filling a closed room. By this point, my body was jammed against the passenger door, the handle pressing into my ribs. I knew there'd be a bruise there by evening.

I took a deep breath. "Is there something wrong with idealism?"

"Only when it stops you from doing what's right."

"Don't you ever accuse him of not doing right!" My body burned with anger. I tried to swallow it down before I said any more. I didn't want to get into this right now. I tried to think of Edward, sitting in the airplane, heading for twelve months of horror. Being beside his brother for an hour-long journey seemed insignificant compared to that.

Even if his brother was an asshole.

"I'd like to get out of the car." We were in the middle of nowhere, but I didn't care. I'd rather have hitched my way home than sit next to Emmett Cullen right then.

Emmett took his hand from the wheel and slowly leaned across me, pushing the lock down into the car door. "I don't think so, Isabella." As he pulled back, he trailed a hand across my bare thigh.

I wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. Either way, it made me squirm.

He carried on talking as if nothing had happened. "You need to understand something. Edward is a Cullen, and we're a tight-knit family. He might come across as an easy-going laid-back guy, but he was raised the same as me. Duty first and everything else second. You'd do well to remember that."

There was a smirk playing around his lips that didn't go up to his eyes. I wanted to wipe it off his face and throw it to the ground. Maybe stamp on it like a petulant kid.

"He's not like that." It was all I could think of to say. But it meant so much more than the sum of the words. Inside I was screaming, wanting to shout it out loud. _Edward is so much better than you._

Emmett laughed, and the sound grated like fingernails on a blackboard. "I think I know what my brother is like. You're nothing more than a distraction." He turned to look at me, his eyes a pool of icy-blue. "You aren't the sort of girl a Cullen would marry. Have sex with, maybe ... but never marry."

Nausea swirled in the pit of my stomach, rising up until it dragged against my throat. I wanted to scream, to throw myself out of the car. Another moment sitting next to him was a moment too long.

I looked across at him again, and moistened my dry lips with my tongue. "You're an elitist asshole." I couldn't believe I was saying this to Edward's brother.

"And you're a distraction. A pretty, sexy, hot, piece of meat." He jabbed me with his index finger. Without thinking it through, I grabbed it, tightening my grip until it was almost painful.

I wanted to snap it clean in two.

"Jesus Christ!" He pulled his hand away, shaking his wrist. "That hurt." He shook it again. "Fucking bitch."

"Don't touch me again." My voice was thick and low. "If you do, I'll tell Edward."

Emmett laughed, and it cut right through me. "You think he'd ever choose a two-dollar whore over his own family?"

I closed my eyes, trying to remember the way he said goodbye. I could almost feel his lips against my mouth. "Yes, I really think he would." Angry tears stung my eyes. I swallowed hard, trying to rein them in. I didn't want Emmett to know he'd made me cry.

"You know nothing about the Cullens." He was gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles had turned white. "We're tight knit. We stick together."

"I know more than you think." I looked straight over at him, my lips curling down into a frown. Somewhere, somehow I'd managed to summon up the courage I needed, enough to put the slime ball in his place. "I know you're an asshole who doesn't know how to treat women properly. I also know Edward is ten times the man you'll ever be."

Emmett kept his eyes on the road. "You really know nothing about my family, do you? Has Edward told you about any of us, really talked to you about our father's expectations? Because even if he did want to marry you, it's not just him you'd be taking on. It's a whole level of expectation.

"Take my wife, Rose. She runs committees, organizes charity events. Whenever we go somewhere, she's expected to smile and keep her mouth shut. There's no time for her to devote to work or even her own hobbies. She's my wife first and foremost. And that's what we'd expect of you."

I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes. As much as I wanted to ignore his words, to pretend Edward bore no relation to him, I knew there was some truth in what he was saying. No matter how cool Edward was, or how much he wanted to be different, their blood still ran through his veins.

It didn't make me love him any less, though.

When he finally came to a stop outside our small, inexpensive house, I felt relieved and embarrassed. Happy because I finally could get out of the car, and not have to sit next to him anymore. Embarrassed because he now knew first hand, exactly how little money my father had compared to his.

I grabbed the handle, jerking the door open, eager to escape. Emmett kept the engine idling, but leaned across the front seat, his watery-blue eyes never leaving me as I climbed out of my seat.

His menacing gaze made my skin crawl.

"I'll see you again, sweetheart." He managed to make the words sound like a threat. I was too happy to get out of there to heed it.

"I've no doubt of that." I kept my voice firm, but inside I was just the opposite. I walked steadily away from the car toward the house, not looking back. When I pushed the door handle, letting myself into the house, I heard the roar of the engine as he pressed on the gas, tires squealing as he sped down the road.

I leaned against the cool, painted wall of the hallway. My cheeks were hot against it, heating my face, burning my skin. I was spitting mad; furious that I'd allowed Emmett Cullen to upset me, even angrier at his blatant warning to me about the power held by his family. But the fury was good, it was right. It was something to hold on to when my heart was in a Pan Am jet going halfway across the world.

It felt so much better than the tears I knew would come later.

~*CD*~

My father drove me back to Berkeley in early January. The car seemed quiet without Eric; though I was glad he'd managed to enrol in our local community college. He was making money with a part-time job at the mill, saving up so he could move out of home. He had a long-term plan, to move to San Francisco. I tried to encourage him as much as I could.

Daddy drove as carefully as he always did, while we talked about the apartment I had found just off campus, and the roommates I'd be sharing with that year. They were all busy seniors, about to enter their final year, too intent on studying to cause him any worry.

I didn't tell him of my plans to protest, to help man the permanent vigil against Vietnam. It seemed like he had enough on his mind that summer, I didn't need to add to his worries.

January passed in a blur of studying, marching and writing desperate letters. Edward's replies arrived erratically; I would wait a week or two for one to arrive, only for it to be accompanied by a few more. Sometimes it took a while to sort them out date-wise, before I could read them. I wondered if he had the same problem, if he was sitting in the Saigon Embassy, trying to work out which letter to read first. They always made me smile, warming my heart as much as the sun must warm his face.

_**MACV Joint Command**_

_**Tan Son Nhut Airbase**_

_**Nr Saigon**_

_**14th January 1968**_

_Dear Bella,_

_Note the new address at the top of the letter. I've been transferred to Military Assistance Command (Vietnam) last week, to work under General Westmoreland. They call this place 'Pentagon East', and if you look at the photos I've sent, you'll see why. The building is huge, like a sprawling city of offices, and we all use bicycles to get from one end to the other._

_I've been working in the Chief of Staff's office under Major General Kerwin; ordering and coordinating medical supplies to send to mobile hospitals. I only lasted a while in the embassy before they realized my pre-med training made me much more valuable here. Half of my time is spent trying to smooth relations between all the commanders; none of them seem to be able to agree on anything, and often have stand-up arguments in the corridors. If I ever did want to go into politics, this would be the ultimate training._

_I've been back to the Embassy a few times for after-dinner meetings. Most of those end up in port and cigars. They aren't exactly slumming it here._

_You asked me what the weather is like. It's not so bad. They say the heat is more bearable here, than in the jungle, where the sun and rain combine to make the humidity levels so high you feel you're constantly walking in smog. The air may be drier where we are, but the baking sun still makes us strip off as often as we can (there' s one for your imagination.)_

_I'm camped in a BOQ in the Rex Hotel, not far from the compound, but within easy reach of the embassy too. The facilities are generally okay; we have electricity, running water, and can cook our rations on a small stove if someone remembers to clean up the skillets. The electricity has gone out a few times, and Jasper and I have managed to get the generator going again with a little spit, and a lot of muscle._

_Before I sleep, I read your letters and think about what you might be doing. You say you're manning the permanent vigil, which is great. I like to think that you're doing your bit at home, like I'm playing my part here. Between us, hopefully, we can get me home before the year is up. _

_Do you ever think of that night when we made love in the car? I think of it all the time. I remember the way your legs felt wrapped around my body, and the way your lips moved against mine. If I close my eyes I can almost smell you, and hear the way your breath sounded against my ear. When I get back, I plan to make love to you constantly, no matter where or when. You should probably be prepared._

_I miss you, sweetheart. ____California seems so far away, not just in miles any more. _Sometimes I fall asleep and dream of you, only to wake up and see the fan beating over my head, and the realization I'm here makes me want to scream and shout. It's so easy to believe that the world isn't going on without us.

_I've put a few photos in this letter—I hope you like them. My camera seems to be constantly around my neck at the moment. Sometimes, looking at things from behind a lens seems somehow easier than staring things in the face. I'm not sure what that says about me; maybe nothing._

_That's it for now, but I'll try to write again later this week. Jasper has some plan of going out in Saigon itself, though there's talk of unrest and escalation. I guess we'll have to wait and see._

_I love you. Don't ever forget that._

_Edward._

I wrote the date in large capitals at the top of his letters as they arrived, ordering them as if I was trying to read chapters in a book. The margins grew dirty and thin from my constant re-reading, my thumbs making holes in the paper. I tried hard not to cry when I read them; I didn't want to blur the ink.

By mid-January, I was on the rota for the permanent vigil, sometimes spending the night hunkered down in my blankets, talking to the occasional waifs and strays who passed by. I preferred the day time slots, when I could chat with the students and faculty, tell them that I supported our troops, but not the war, urging them to write to their congressman, their senator, or LBJ. Ironically, being part of the anti-Vietnam movement helped to take my mind off Edward, to stop worrying every moment about where he was and what he was doing. Not that I told any of the other protestors about my boyfriend in Saigon; I was too leery of their responses to let them know.

Then Tet arrived. A Buddhist festival, it was a celebration of the Lunar New Year, the most important religious day in Vietnam. A ceasefire had been declared and agreed between the North and South, allowing for the People's Army to go home and celebrate with their families, while our boys enjoyed a few days breathing space.

The only problem was: nobody consulted the Vietcong.

Early in the morning of January 30th, they launched a huge offensive against the South and their allies; the US and ANZAC armies. The US Military was completely unprepared for guerrilla tactics, and more than a hundred towns and cities were attacked across the South.

Including Saigon.

A ten minute slot on the Huntley-Brinkley report that evening detailed how the Vietcong managed to blow a hole in the thick, concrete wall and climb into the compound just after midnight. Bodies of fallen Military Police were shown lying in the streets, their faces clearly visible on camera as it panned across the mayhem.

I watched with dry eyes, my fingers digging into my skin, knowing that Edward wasn't in the MP, yet still checking to see it wasn't him. Every glimpse of olive combats seemed to resemble Edward, and I watched with my quivering hand over my mouth, so scared he was going to be hurt.

The US regained control of the compound at 09:00 hours that morning. All nineteen Vietcong soldiers were killed. The camera lingered on their bodies; their small, thin frames reminding me of children, their limbs limp and hanging down as they were stretchered away.

The US suffered fewer casualties; two military policemen and a Marine corporal were killed trying to defend the embassy compound. My whole body shook as I waited for details of further deaths, and shook harder when none was forthcoming.

I hardly slept for days. I'd lie in my bed, my dry eyes wide open, wondering if he were alive … or dead. I thought about calling his family, then remembered the way his brother had talked to me, the way he'd touched me, the way he'd warned me about my place in his family.

I rationalized it, knowing he wasn't working at the embassy, and he was far away from the action. But I kept remembering how he went back there for meetings, and it was hard to shake away the fear.

The cruel realization that Edward was fighting a war and could die at any moment was too much to bear. I wasn't sure if I could survive the constant fear. And I knew this was only the beginning.

It was two weeks before a letter arrived. The edges of the envelope were curled and tattered, as if it'd been through a war itself. I snatched it out of our mailbox, ignoring the interested stares of my roommates, and ran to my bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. Before reading I checked the date, a ritual that reassured me, and made me feel safe and comfortable. It warmed me to know that only a few days before he'd been holding the paper in his hand, writing his thoughts down and thinking of me.

Like I thought of him.

As I read, I felt nausea growing in my stomach, fearful for what he must be feeling. It wasn't just distance and time that seemed to separate us anymore.

_**3rd February 1968**_

_Knowing you as I do, I'm pretty sure you're aware what's happening over here in Saigon. I can't fill you in on too much, as operations are still on-going. There's been fighting all around the city, and though we've secured the Embassy, we suffered some casualties, and managed to kill 19 Vietcong, some of whom were only kids. _

_Everything around here is locked down at the moment. We're under orders to stay where we are, to bunker down until things calm. I've got too much time on my hands, and all I can think about is what is going to happen to us all, and how any of us are going to make it through the next twelve months._

_If anything happens to me, I want you to promise you'll move on. I've been thinking about this all day—in between trying to arrange emergency medical supplies—and I feel like a selfish, egotistical piece of crap. I knew I was going to war, I knew there was a chance that something could happen to me. But I wanted you, and I took you in the most thorough way possible. _

_If I were more of a man, I'd tell you to move on now, but I'm not. I'm a greedy asshole, who saw something he wanted, and disregarded the consequences._

_Christ, I miss you. _

_I miss the way your hair feels between my fingers, and the sweet way you smile when you look at me. I miss feeling your legs wrapped around my waist, and the way your soft flesh yields as I make love to you. _

_Last summer seems like a hundred years ago. _

_And yet, I find it hard to think of anything else. I'm a liability to myself and to my fellow soldiers. To die by my own stupidity would be one thing; to cause others to die would be unforgivable. I have to remind myself of this daily. I'm trying harder to be less of a man, more of a machine, but I can't shake off this constant feeling that something bad is going to happen._

_Things are in chaos here. Since the attack on the 31st, we've been running around like stray dogs chasing their tails, trying to fight off Charlie, and take back the initiative. The generals look frazzled and out of control, like things are slipping through their fingers._

_I know how they feel._

_There's not much else to say. Keep the letters coming, even if you just tell me how you cleaned your teeth, or what book you are reading. It helps, to know that in this fucked up world, something resembling reality is still happening._

_I'll try to cheer up in my next letter. _

_Stay safe. _

_Love,_

_Edward._

I folded the letter carefully, slipping it back inside the light blue envelope. My fingers trembled as I slid it under my pillow, joining the others I was hoarding, saving for the moments when I needed to feel close to him.

A tear ran down my cheek, the trail running to the corner of my mouth. It pooled inside my lips, and I could taste the salty wetness on my tongue. I thought of Edward, sitting scared in his room, the noise of gunfire outside the only sound he could hear. I realized that no matter what happened, everything had changed. When he came back, if he came back, things could never be the same again. Neither of us was going to come out unscathed.

And as I thought back to his words, I just couldn't shake the feeling that he was already saying goodbye.

* * *

**A/N Many thanks to SunflowerFran, Midnight Cougar, SparrowNotes24 and Pates Greeneyes for all their work and support. **

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	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

The lunchtime rush had slowed to a steady trickle, the occasional trucker stopping for a cup of joe, or a harried mother buying her bored children a chocolate shake. I'd landed a job in the diner just after arriving back in Wentworth for the summer of sixty-eight. The owner's wife had taken ill unexpectedly, and I happened to be in the right place, at the right time. My father had taken a little persuading, wanting to know why I needed the money, how I was going to get home after a late shift. I'd cajoled and pleaded, telling him that I was saving for after college, and that I wanted to go on to study post-graduation. I was finding the work my only salvation in a year of darkness, and I didn't see that changing anytime soon.

The truth was, I didn't need the money, I needed the distraction. Angela was travelling all over California, spending a lot of time protesting at the Air Force Base. Eric was spending more and more time in San Francisco. He'd landed a part-time job in a store there, and from his letters I could tell it already felt like home. Probably more so than the tiny shack on the edge of town that echoed with his father's shouts and his mother's cries.

Finding myself alone, I'd tried a few days of lying in the sharp sand, listening to conversations going on around me. All it gave me was a sense of isolation and a burned nose. Neither of them did very much to improve my mood. Having too much time on my hands led to bittersweet thoughts of Edward and Saigon, and before I knew it, I'd be packing up my towel and book, trying to hide the tears in my eyes from the shouting kids and laughing teenagers. It was strange to think I was one of them once. Now, I just felt like an outsider.

I was so much happier as soon as I started work. In between orders I read the paper and filled the jukebox, playing Simon and Garfunkel over and again. They were my obsession, that year. There was something depressingly comforting about_ The Sound of Silence_, allowing me to give into the darkness, if only for the minutes Art Garfunkel sang about the narrow streets and the cold and damp. I tried not to succumb for longer than that.

Angela was into Motown; her song of the moment was "Dock of the Bay." She couldn't whistle for shit, and managed to ruin the ending every, single time. I didn't mind too much; I liked hearing her laughter, and the deep tones of Otis Redding echoing through her garage. They reminded me there was something else going on other than the nagging worry I wore like a shield, and the images that flickered across the television screen on the nightly news.

The door of the diner banged, and I looked up, watching as Jessica Newton walked in, her baby screaming in her arms. Her washed-out blonde hair lay limply down her back, greasy and rat-tailed. I almost felt sorry for her as she tried to rock her arms, begging the child to calm down. He didn't seem to be listening anyway, his bright red face screwed up tighter than an old lady's girdle.

"Hey Jess, what can I get you?" I walked around the counter and helped her get seated into a booth, taking her bag as she slid inside. She made a make-shift bed with a blanket, laying the infant on top, while his arms and legs moved maniacally. His face was scrunched with anger, like he knew what a messed up place our country had become. I couldn't imagine what sort of place it would be by the time he reached adulthood.

"Thanks." Jessica's smile was weak, but it was the first one I'd ever had directed at me. I had to remind myself this was bitch Jessica, the one who treated me like dirt and flirted with my boyfriend. Because, boy, did she look different now.

"Would you like a drink?" I pulled the pad out of the pocket on my apron, lifting the pencil from behind my ear.

Even her nod was sad. "Can I have a coffee? Better make it black; Mike tells me I've still got baby weight to lose."

I looked down at her little one. "How old is he now?"

"Six months."

"He looks just like his daddy." To be fair, the kid didn't have the greatest start in life, having Mike Newton for a father. But those light blue eyes and button nose didn't lie. I just hoped he didn't inherit anything else. Like a sense of superiority and a bad attitude toward girls.

Jessica's eyes teared up. "That's what they say." She didn't look too happy at my observation, and I had to wonder why. I tried to imagine how I'd feel if I had a baby with brown hair and green eyes, and a smile that lit up my world. The thought brought tears to my eyes, too. Between us we were ready to cry a river.

"Are you okay?" I slid my pencil inside the pad. "Is there something wrong?"

A tear rolled down her cheek and I started to panic. I felt supremely awkward, watching a non-friend break down in front of me. My eyes darted around, noticing the diner was practically empty. I didn't know what to do. Would she want me to put my arms around her, tell her everything would be okay? My only experience of girlfriends was with Angela, and we pretty much kept our hands to ourselves.

"I'm fine." Her voice was firmer, like she was trying to persuade herself. She inhaled deeply then blew the air back out, making it whistle through her lips. "So how are you? Are you back for good?"

I shook my head. "Just for the summer. I go back to Berkeley in the fall." I could hear the jukebox whirring in the corner, selecting a random record, and I gave an inward smile when Richard Harris started to sing about someone leaving cakes out in the rain. Angela and I always cracked up over that song,

"Sounds nice." Her tone had turned wistful as an Indian summer. I would have laid a bet she was thinking about her own life, her own chances of college. That baby tied her down to Wentworth harder than a lead weight.

"I'll just put your order in." I turned around, heading for the kitchen, humming along to the music. I wasn't going to think of babies, or the connection they brought. It was too much for my already-fragile heart.

"Bella?" Her shout made me stop walking and turn to look at her. "Did you hear about Sam Uley?"

I closed my eyes, remembering the tall, dark soldier I'd seen on the beach last summer. It had been the weekend that Edward left for Basic, and I'd stared at his shorn hair and sad lips that day at the lake. The way he'd kissed his girlfriend, all candy-corn sweetness and bitter sorrow. It was hard to forget. Even if it felt like months, and years, and eons ago. The memories of that day flitted through my mind like a CinemaScope movie. Stop-start, stop-start.

"No, what about him?" I started to walk toward her again. He had to be close to coming back from Vietnam. My stomach tightened with jealousy. Edward's tour end was so far away. Sam's girlfriend, Emily, was going to get her happy ending long before I ever would.

"He's dead."

And just like that she stole the breath from my lips. I stopped walking, frozen to the floor with the weight of another tragedy. I could feel a rough lump forming in my throat, making my eyes water. All I could think of was no, not another, not another.

Then, I thanked God it wasn't Edward. I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the acrid taste lingering in my mouth. It was flavored with sadness and horror, relief and guilt. Too many emotions to bear. "How did he die?"

I wanted to know and I didn't. I wanted her to tell me it was a one-off, an accident that could never be repeated in the city streets of Saigon. I wanted her to tell me it would never happen to Edward. But those weren't her words to speak.

The baby started to cry again, and she put her hand on his stomach, hushing him softly. "He died in Da Nang, stepped on a VC mine."

The muscles in my legs turned to jelly and I sat down on the empty bench opposite her. I didn't like the pictures that were flashing through my mind; images of explosions, of slaughter, of blood. I shook it hard, trying to get rid of them, but they clung on tighter than a leech.

The baby began to wail louder, and she picked him up, cradling him against her chest. A tear dropped from her cheek onto his head and she wiped it away. "They told his momma on Monday."

I bit my lip to stop the wail that wanted to escape my lips. I hardly knew Sam, other than as a god to be worshipped in the hallways of Wentworth High. It wasn't him for whom I wanted to cry. It wasn't Emily either. I wanted to cry for everybody and no one. For Edward, for me, for the whole damn country. "Is his funeral going to be here?" I wasn't sure if I could stand it, seeing his coffin being lowered into a gaping hole. The good old stars and stripes draped across the wood.

She shook her head. "He's being buried in Virginia. His folks are being taken there next week."

"Arlington?" I'd never been to the National Cemetery, but felt like I knew the place so well, having seen it many times on the small screen. The resting place not only of our fallen soldiers, but lately of Robert Kennedy, too. "That sucks." I dropped my head, staring at my notepad, hoping and praying I'd never have to see that place for myself.

"Sure does. Mike said some of them are going to make a fire for him at the lake this weekend. Give him a send-off from Wentworth. Maybe you should go."

"I don't know." I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome there, and even less sure I wanted to go. I might feel like an interloper, going to mourn somebody I hardly knew. Yet the need to do something—anything—to celebrate life and say farewell to the dead of Vietnam lay heavy on my heart. And I thought about it for the rest of the week. It was one hell of a tough decision.

~*CD*~

Those few days tasted bitter on my lips, like milk about to turn. A hint of nausea clung to my insides like a cloak, reminding me that nothing was right. Sometimes I felt it never would be.

My father watched me warily, his eyes guarded, lips tight. He tried to talk to me about school, about Eric, about Edward. He even tried baseball once, his brows pulling into a frown when I told him Bert Campaneris could go fuck himself. I think I flinched more than he did, which was saying something.

I couldn't stop thinking about the war; about Sam in particular. He'd been walking along a broken road when he stepped foot on the mine. Did he know what was coming? Did he feel any pain? I thought about it until I finally fell asleep, then dreamed of dust and dirt and detonations, people covered with blood and smoke. And green eyes; always green eyes.

In the end, I decided to go to the lake. The evening was still warm when we pulled into the shingled parking lot, the beach scattered with the debris of the day visitors. A few guys were dragging driftwood over to the fire pit, while the girls were sitting on the logs, surrounding Sam's girlfriend, Emily. I walked over to Riley Biers, taking the can of beer he offered me, clinking it against his when he opened his own.

"Long time, no see." He took a sip. Froth covered his lips. His hair had grown out since I last saw him, falling lower than his shoulders. A thick beard covered his chin and for a minute he reminded me of Jesus. Then he took another sip of beer and the image was gone.

"I've been working." I smiled. "I'm a working girl." There was something about Riley that always put me at ease. We weren't the closest of friends, barely talked from one season to the next, but when I saw him it was like my worries could settle down for a while.

He coughed loudly, choking on his beer. A strange expression flitted across his face. "Where you working, _working girl_?"

"The diner. I'm surprised you haven't seen me there." God knew it seemed like I spent most of my life in that place. My clothes had long since taken on the stale aroma of oil and cheap cigarettes. I'd taken to washing my hair when I got home, even if I had to go to bed with it wet. It beat gagging when I woke in the morning.

"I've been full-time at the mill." He didn't look too happy about it. I could understand why. It wasn't the job we dreamed of when we were sitting in Civics class. It was more like driving down a dead end, with nowhere to turn around.

I took another sip of beer. "Did you hear Eric's left for the city?"

Riley flinched. It was momentary, and not intended for my eyes, but I caught it all the same. "Yeah, he managed to escape. Brings hope to the rest of us."

We talked some more before the conversation started wearing out, like a train running out of track. I wanted to ask him if he knew about Eric, but that was opening a whole can of worms I didn't want to fish with … especially right then. I decided to keep my lips stuck together on that subject.

"You still with that guy?" He tipped his head when he spoke. His lips looked pink next to the dull yellow of his beard.

"Yeah, though he's still in 'Nam at the moment." Every time I said it, I winced. Things had calmed down since the first wave of the Tet Offensive, though his recent letters hinted at chaos still reigning the corridors of power, and of Generals who didn't know how to fight a guerrilla army.

"Must be hard." I saw his eyes glance over at Emily, who was sitting by the roaring bonfire. Her face was lit by the flickering flames, her eyes glassy as she stared into the orange heat. I didn't know how she could sit so still, so tall. If I were her I'd be doubled over with pain. She gave mourning a quiet elegance that I could never achieve.

"It is hard." I didn't have to say it was easier than for her. We both knew that.

We finished our beers and took two, new cans. It was like we were determined to get drunk, to blot out the misery of the day, in Riley's case; or in mine, the misery of waiting. At around ten o'clock everybody gathered around the dying embers, sitting close to each other as we stared at the final flames. Riley picked up his guitar, letting his fingers move deftly across the strings, his soulful voice cutting through the still, night air. When he started to play "Blowin' in the Wind" I could feel the skin on the back of my neck start to pucker, the hairs standing on end.

Then he opened his mouth and started to sing, his voice low and croaky, enough to make me shiver. "_How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man_?" He only finished the first line before my whole body started to shake, tears flowing along with loud, gasping sobs. I felt so angry, so alone, so miserable without Edward. I wanted him here, sitting with me, not some god-forsaken place where he was sorting out other people's mistakes. He had nothing to prove—absolutely nothing—and yet he was fighting a war that nobody supported.

I bent over double, trying to prevent the tears, trying to stop from bringing attention to myself. Two cool arms wrapped around my neck, and I looked up to see the last person who should ever be trying to comfort me.

"It's okay, honey." Emily ran a hand down my hair.

Did she think I was crying for Sam? I felt like a fraud, letting my weakness show, crying for myself when at least my man was alive and well. Just another reason for me to hate myself.

"I'm so sorry, Emily." And I was. More than she could know. I was sorry for her, for Sam, for the whole freaking country.

"Don't cry for me. I'm going to be okay. Cry for the boys who are still over there."

That made me weep harder. She hugged me tight, her thin arms wrapped around my back. I squeezed her back, trying to tell her with my body what I couldn't say with my lips. I was sorry, so goddamned sorry. I hated the war; I hated the leaders who had gotten us tangled up in a maelstrom they were never going to calm. More than anything I hated myself for being so weak, for breaking down in public, for making a spectacle of myself.

"Walk with me?" Emily inclined her head toward the shore. Her inky-black hair shimmered in the moonlight, falling like a dark river down her back. I nodded quickly, taking her proffered hand. We walked along the shoreline in our bare feet, our soles plastered with cold, wet sand. The fire became a light in the distance, the sound of music and splashing little more than a hum.

She was the first to break the silence, her soft voice cutting through the night air. "I broke up with him two weeks ago." Her voice caught on her sentence. "Nobody seems to know. He didn't tell anybody."

I stopped walking, my mouth falling open with surprise. "You split up? Why?"

She glanced down at her feet, kicking at the wet sand with them, making grooves in the shore. A gentle wave covered our toes, the cool water pooling around them. "He wrote to tell me he'd had sex with a prostitute while he was over there. He begged me to forgive him, to tell him we could still be together. When I read the letter I couldn't believe it, I felt like I was dying inside." She bit her lip. "I said the most hurtful things in my letter back to him." She reached out and grabbed my hand, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You can't tell anybody."

I frowned. "Why is it such a big secret? It wasn't your fault." I didn't even want to think how I'd feel in her position. I hadn't thought about girls there, and soldiers paying money for sex. I felt foolish, like the small-town naïve girl I was, and realized I had much to learn.

Her chest hitched and a small cry escaped from her lips. "Because, even though I'm not sure if he got the letter, I'll always wonder if it was me who caused his death. I'm not saying he killed himself, but maybe he got a little careless, wasn't paying attention to what he was doing." She reached up and wiped her face. "Maybe if I'd forgiven him …"

Visions of Vietnam flashed through my eyes; the jungle, bodies lying dead on the ground, killed by gunfire or makeshift mines. I hoped to God that Sam hadn't suffered like I'd seen in my dreams. I hoped he'd stepped on that mine and gone to nothingness, just peaceful, pain-free oblivion. I squeezed her small palm, trying to reassure. "Nobody has to know. I won't tell anybody, I promise."

We walked a little farther, reaching the treeline where Edward and I had made out all those months ago. It was only a year before, but back then I was just a child, untouched by the dirtiness of the outside world. What a difference a year made. I had already forgotten how his voice sounded, the way his lips moved across mine when he kissed me. I tried to imagine him betraying me like Sam had done, and it made my blood turn to ice.

"When did it happen? Sam and the ..." I couldn't even bring myself to say it, like the words would make it real.

Emily started sobbing for real. "He said it happened during his week in Bangkok. He didn't tell me any details, just that he felt so damn lonely at the time, and regretted it." She wiped her face with her hands. "I mean, what did he think I was feeling? I haven't so much as looked at another guy, let alone touch one."

Loud shouting carried across the air from the fire pit. I guess with Emily not there, the memorial had turned into a party. I couldn't find it inside myself to care. Let them party while they could, laugh and sing and have a good time. Life was too short for everybody to feel like us; lost and alone.

"War does strange things to people." It was a meaningless sentence, but it had substance for us. We shared a bond, a knowledge the world had cracked in two, and the life we knew before was drifting out of reach.

She nodded. "It's broken my heart, snapped it clean in two. I would have gotten back together with him eventually, at least I think so. I just needed time."

Time was such a fickle thing; it seemed to take delight in stretching into forever, when you were waiting for somebody to come back from war. And yet, when you needed it most it disappeared between your fingers like the sand beneath our feet. It was like a weapon that didn't care who it hurt.

"I'm so sorry." I hated that I couldn't find the words she needed to hear. I wondered if they even existed.

"So am I."

~*CD*~

I was still pretty low two days later when a letter from Edward arrived. My father came back from an early shift, pulling our mail out of the rusty, half-painted tin box, passing me the blue letter before he even took his cap off. I curled my fingers around it, so happy to see he'd written. Even happier to know he was still alive.

"Go and read it." Daddy leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of my head. He didn't have to say it twice. I turned around and flew back up the stairs, running into my bedroom and collapsing in the chair. My fingers were shaking as I tore at the paper. I couldn't help but think of Emily, and how excited she must have been when Sam's letters arrived, until she read about his infidelity. My blood felt like a cocktail of anticipation and fear; opening the envelope was like opening Pandora's Box. I didn't know what I was going to find inside.

_**MACV Joint Command**_

_**Tan Son Nhut Airbase**_

_**Nr Saigon**_

_**18th August 1968**_

_Dear Bella,_

_This one is going to be short and sweet. Mainly because I'm due to report for duty five minutes ago, but also because I know what time the mail plane leaves, and it's in about half an hour. I want to get this to you as soon as possible, because we have plans to make._

_Yes, plans. Good ones. The sort that have put a big smile on my face, and made me want to see you doing a hula dance._

_I've been given a date of 7th October for my one week's R&R. I'd requested Hawaii, knowing it was unlikely since every man and his dog requests that so they can meet up with their wives. For some reason (and I don't want to really start to think why, because the democrat in me doesn't like getting any help) I've got it. I can't even start to describe the sort of celebration I held an hour ago, knowing that it's less than two months until I see you again._

_I've asked my mom to book your plane tickets and send them down to you. You'll be able to fly from LAX to Honolulu, and meet me there. I'll be getting the troop flight from Saigon, and should land soon after you do._

_I know it will be in the middle of your semester, but I'm hoping you can sort something out to allow you a week off. Do you think you can do that?_

_I have to go. I've no idea how I'm going to concentrate on any work tonight, knowing you're so close, knowing I'm only weeks away from holding you in my arms again._

_Sweet dreams, baby. See you in Hawaii._

_All my love,_

_E _

I folded up the letter, a mixture of elation and nervousness clutching at my heart. I wondered if I'd be able to persuade my tutor to release me, whether I had time to sort out some sort of birth control. I worried if my father would find out, and what I'd say to him.

Most of all I feared that, like Sam, I'd find him changed, altered by a life that none of us wanted to lead. And for two months that thought ate away at the lining of my stomach.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you for reading, and for your lovely reviews for the last chapter. I think the general consensus was that Emmett is a douche, and I wholeheartedly agree. If you want teasers, photos etc, come join me at my facebook group (Chocaholic123 Fanfiction - link is on my profile), and once the new Fictease website is accepting teasers, I'll be posting them there too.**

**Fran betas, Mid, Sparrow and Pates pre-read. I'm so grateful to them all.**

**Thanks again, and have a great week. Choc xoxo**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

"I can't believe this heat." The pretty, blonde girl sitting next to me pulled her blouse forward, fanning her pink, glowing chest. I tried not to look at the swell of her breasts, or the way her freckles led a line down to her bra. The heat was suffocating in there, amplified by the number of bodies squeezed in to the small space. And we were all restless, half-ignoring the people standing at the front, our minds occupied by thoughts of reconciliations.

Somebody in front of us tutted and she grew silent for a moment, long enough for me to hear a few words of advice from the USO liaison officer. Then she started chewing on her gum with loud, squelchy bites. It reminded me of the way sheep chewed; a round jaw action, deliberate and strong. I tried not to watch as she blew another bubble.

I felt out of place here, among the wives and fiancées of a thousand soldiers; compared to them our relationship was nothing—no ring or baby pictures to speak of. I was just a girlfriend, my status enough to lead to some of them ignoring me. Others gossiped loudly, some rocking babies, or scolding bored children as they attempted to run around the hall. We were there for the _Rest and Recuperation_ briefing for spouses and friends, where we were told how to behave around our loved ones, and how not to be taken for a ride by the locals.

"Where you stayin'?" The girl next to me leaned in again. She had a broad accent; clipped vowels and a glottal stop that made me think she was from the east.

"The Outrigger." Edward had managed to book into the huge, white edifice of a hotel, set right on the beach, overlooking palm trees and pale, yellow sands. It was a beautiful hotel, and as soon as I explained my 'husband' was travelling from Vietnam, the staff couldn't do enough for me.

"So are we. Swanky, ain't it?" She paused her chewing long enough to comment.

I tried to make small talk. "My boyfriend booked it."

"You're lucky. I had to arrange everything. I swear I'll be arranging what position he'll take me as soon as we get in that hotel room. I'm Maggie, by the way."

"Bella." I swallowed hard, blushing at her talk. I'd been thinking about sex since I'd arrived the previous afternoon. The plane landed at Honolulu airport at two p.m., and I'd caught a taxi to the hotel, making sure I was charged R & R rates. When I checked in and made my way to the room, I felt my heart pounding like a jackhammer. There was a large, double bed in the middle of the room, the lurid bed cover doing nothing to dispel my nervous anticipation.

Nine months had passed since I'd seen him. Nine months since we'd last made love. All the women at the briefing could talk about was sex; how soon they'd have it, how many times they'd do it, whether their husbands would be able to last longer than five minutes. I couldn't bring myself to tell them that I'd only slept with Edward a handful of times.

"You wanna give him some head first, let him get it out of his system before you bag him. That way it'll be satisfying for both of you." Maggie continued with her unsolicited and unfiltered advice, and I nodded almost imperceptibly. I knew what she was talking about, but didn't want to admit I'd never done half the stuff she was describing.

"You got kids?"

I shook my head. "We're not married."

"Going steady?" Her questions were one long round of relentless interrogation. Like Japanese water torture, but without the chance of reprieve.

"Yeah." At least; I thought so. That was what I'd told the campus doctor when I'd asked for a prescription for the birth control pill. He'd taken pity on me and my tales of a boyfriend in Vietnam, long enough to scribble out a chit for Enovid-10. I'd been taking it for a few weeks, desperate not to forget a single dose.

The briefing was coming to an end. The USO at the front—a woman who bore more than a passing resemblance to Mary Tyler-Moore—told us to go back to our hotels. I was about to stand up and join the line when somebody shouted they could see the men leaving the big green buses that had brought them from the airport. Everybody rushed to the windows in the corner of the room, pressing their noses against the glass in an attempt to see their loved ones walking by.

"Ladies, please leave the room. I'm afraid you won't be reunited until the military briefing is over."

There was a collective groan. The girl who had been sitting next to me lifted up her blouse and flashed her bra-clad breasts at the passing soldiers. I swore I could hear the whistles through the thick glass.

Despite the longing stares through the window, and the desperation of the women as we searched for our men, they eventually rounded us up and practically pushed us onto the buses. It reminded me of high school, when they'd try to separate the boys and girls for field trips, not wanting anybody to be making-out on the back seats. Not that making-out was what we had in mind. Though I suspected we'd barely last longer than teenagers.

When I got back to the hotel room I could feel my skin start to itch, my body betraying my anxiety as I scratched at my neck, my pale flesh inflamed by nerves. I sorted through my meagre suitcase, trying to decide which dress to wear. Was short and flirty trying too hard, making too much of a statement?

By the time I heard the gentle knock at the door I was sick with fear. My legs were buckling beneath me like a new-born foal. They were never sturdy at the best of times, but now their ability to even hold my own weight was in question. It was like I was a virgin all over again, and Edward was coming to visit me at my father's house, hands full of daisies and mind full of expectation.

I was so afraid I'd let him down.

He knocked again. I took a deep breath, pushing myself away from the wall I was leaning on, crossing the huge wide desert of carpet, each step taking an age. By the time I reached the door my heart was racing, clattering against my ribcage like a bowling ball.

"Bella?" God, I loved his voice. I smiled to myself, feeling calm wash over me like a fresh wave. The need to see him overrode anything else, and my fingers tripped over themselves to let him in.

"Just getting the lock." I reached out to turn it. The door collapsed toward me unexpectedly. I had to step back to avoid getting hit. And there he was. Wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, his hair longer than I remembered and his body thicker, somehow. Like he'd grown an extra set of muscles, or at least built the ones he already had. I found it hard to meet his eyes, afraid of what I might see there, or what I might not.

Please God, let him still want me. As much as I wanted him.

"Hey." He said it long, and slow, like we had all the time in the world. His hand wrapped around the door and he pushed it a little more, walking in, carrying his suitcase in the other hand.

"You're here."

He laughed, low and sweet. "Yeah, I'm here."

I didn't even take another breath before he dropped his case and grabbed me, pulling my body against his so quickly I lost my footing and crashed into him. He dipped his head into the skin where my neck met my shoulder, and I let my body relax against him. I felt his warm breath bathe me, and dug my hands into his hair, loving the feel of it between my fingers.

The door swung shut behind him. His hands splayed around my waist, spanning my skin. I could feel him harden against me, feeling bigger than I remembered through the thin fabric of my dress. His lips started to move across my skin, tiny bites, soft kisses, making his way up my neck until he reached my jaw.

"I've missed you." He was so busy kissing me, he almost drowned out his own words.

"I missed you." I was as breathless as he.

My head felt woozy, like I'd stood up too fast, and I clung to his shoulders. I was finding it hard to believe he was really there, that it wasn't a dream, or a mirage conjured up by my feverish imagination.

His kisses were hard and demanding, and I found myself returning them with equal fervour. My fingers curled in his hair, pulling him toward me, wanting him even closer.

"Christ, I need you." His hands moved to my behind, digging into my flesh. Was it possible for him to grow any harder? My body tingled in response, my thighs aching to feel him between them, breasts tender against his chest.

"Then take me." I was goading him, I knew. But I needed him to show me what he wanted, how he wanted it. I was still too nervous to do little more than follow.

He didn't need asking twice. The ground disappeared from beneath my feet as he pulled me into his arms, carrying me to the bed and throwing me down. He was being rough, and to my surprise I liked it, it made me feel clammy and hot.

"I want to see you." He unfastened the buttons on the front of my dress, pulling the fabric apart, spreading it across my chest to reveal my bra. Putting his hands on my breasts, he drew his thumbs across the nipples, hard enough to make them pebble, yet soft enough to make me moan.

"I've dreamt of these." He lowered his head to lick at them over my silky bra, sucking a nipple into his mouth. The wetness of the fabric along with the pulling of his mouth was enough to make my hips rise off the bed.

"Jesus." The words escaped my lips as he moved his hands up my thighs, prising them apart so I was forming a 'V'. He moved his body between them, lining us up. His hardness was rubbing right between my legs.

"Every night." His voice was rough. "I've thought of this every night."

I moved my hands down to cup him. He moaned softly, placing his own hand over mine, encouraging me to push harder. Then he undid his button fly and there was just thin cotton between his excitement and my hand. I curled my fingers to hold him, feeling him pulse against my palm.

His eyes rolled backward. "Christ." His hips moved against my hand and I helped the rhythm, stopping only when he put a hand on mine again. "I don't want to come in my shorts."

"Then take them off."

It was like a cue for us both, we pulled off our clothes, throwing them on the bed, the floor, anywhere but on our bodies. That was when the frenzy really took over. Hands touched flesh, bodies ground, lips kissed and teased and moaned in pleasure.

"I need a condom."

"I've taken the birth control pill." I was too frantic to let him stop. I curled my fingers around the base of his hardness, pulling him to me until I could feel him right there.

"I don't know how long I can last." His hips were already pumping before he even entered me. I could feel his slickness combine with my own.

"It doesn't matter." I ran my hand through his hair. It really didn't; we had all week, and all I wanted was to see him come undone inside me.

His hands curled beneath my body, angling my hips until my legs were wrapped around his hips, and he was on his knees, looming above me. I closed my eyes again, relishing the feeling of his hands on my body, his thighs between my legs. Then he pushed his hips forward and all at once he was inside, muttering curses and panting loudly.

"So good, Christ." He thrust hard and my head rolled back, my eyes rolling with it. "You're so tight."

His lips claimed mine, his tongue sliding inside, his breath panting against my lips. He was moving erratically, and I could see his face screwing up, like he was trying to resist, trying to stop himself from ending it.

I grabbed him closer, digging my fingers into his hips. I encouraged him to move, kissing him back hard, giving him permission to let it all go. Because he needed this—I needed this—and we had a week to take things slowly. For now, I was contented to let him take what he wanted, and in return I'd give him all the love I had.

~*CD*~

We slept a while afterward, our naked bodies entwined, our skin glistening with a soft sheen of sweat. The fan whirred above us, warm air brushing against our faces, the noise like a gentle lullaby. I woke first, my leg having gone numb beneath Edward's stronger, heavier thighs, and I tried to pull it out without rousing him.

It was like a special gift, being able to look at his face while he slept. His hair had turned dark with perspiration, strands hanging over his unlined forehead. His brows were thick but relaxed, his eyelids softly moving with the motion of sleep. His lips were fuller than I remembered, red from being kissed, dry in the warm heat of the room. I reached up to trace one, feeling his soft breath against my fingertip, marvelling that, at least for now, he was all mine.

"How long did we sleep?" He rolled over and stretched. I swallowed when I saw he had already hardened again.

"A couple hours. It's still the afternoon." I glanced at the travel clock I'd brought with me from college. "We haven't missed anything."

He yawned. "I swear I've slept better today than I have in the last nine months."

I could believe it. I didn't know how the hell he slept in Vietnam, surrounded by gunfire and mines, helicopters constantly overhead.

"Well, we can do it all over again, tonight."

His voice was low. "I plan to."

Hearing him talk about his lack of sleep made me curious, and I raised my head to look at him. Like his body, his face looked harder, more chiselled than I remembered. "What's it like out there?"

Edward blinked as if I was shining a light in his eyes. Almost immediately he tore his gaze away from mine, his eyes rolling up to stare at the ceiling. I watched his chest rise as he inhaled; his mouth still silent. For a moment I wondered if he had even heard me.

"It's …" His voice cracked and he paused. "It's not great. There's stuff going on out there that nobody should have to see." He was quiet again, his eyes glassy and his lips trembling.

I could feel a shiver shoot down my spine. I thought he was so protected there, holed up in Saigon headquarters. What sort of things was he seeing? It didn't seem enough to put my arms around his chest and dip my head into his shoulder, but I did it anyway. "What sort of stuff?"

I was out of my depth here, unsure if I should be questioning him or not. I thought back to my father, and the way he never talked about his time in Korea. No man I knew did. It was the women who spoke of how they survived, and how they were left behind. Maybe we were allowed to show our feelings more than the men. It didn't seem very fair.

He lifted his hand to cup my head, his fingers combing through my hair. "There's atrocities we don't talk about, let alone report. Both sides, too." I could feel him breathing slowly, though his heartbeat was rapid. "Women, kids, babies even." His voice broke completely on that one, and I could feel my own eyes brimming with tears. It was hard enough to see the reports on television, watch as the lifeless bodies of children were carried away. I couldn't conceive how awful it must have been to see the corpses in real life.

Or even to have to kill them yourself. The thought chilled me to the bone. No wonder boys were coming back barely able to function, let alone live life normally. And people were spitting on them as they arrived home. Just the thought made the nausea build at the base of my stomach.

~*CD*~

The sun was dropping in the sky when we finally made it out of the hotel. The reception staff didn't bat an eyelid when we finally emerged at 4:00 p.m. and I guessed we were no different from any other reuniting couple. Edward grabbed my hand and we walked to the shops, ready to spend our cash and flash the discount card issued to every soldier on R & R.

Edward bought Hawaiian shirts, and I found two dresses and a beautiful orange and pink lei. We laid them down at the counter, along with some bikinis and swim shorts, and then left for the beach.

It was busy on the sand. Seeing Edward in his blue trunks, fabric tight across his muscled thighs, made my mouth dry and my body wet. I bit back a smile when I took my clothes off to reveal a small, yellow bikini, and he had to roll over to lie on his front.

"Aiming to get a tan on your back?" I smiled as I teased him, running a fingertip down his spine.

"I'm aiming not to get arrested for indecency," he muttered. His voice was muffled by his towel.

I lay on my own towel, letting the warmth bathe my skin. He pulled his camera from his bag, taking shots of everything; the beach, the sea, the swimmers. Me. I noticed how happy he looked with the viewfinder to his eye, like he was watching a tiny movie through the lens. It seemed organic, the way he held it in his hands. Like it was an extension of him.

He turned and pointed it at me again, a grin pulling at his face as I tried to ward him off with my hands.

"Stop it!" I protested, trying to turn my head away.

"I want pictures of you. Lots of pictures." He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Naked ones."

I swallowed hard, trying to remind myself I was a good girl. But there was something so hot about the way he stared at me, and the thought of him having those photographs of me when he went back to Saigon. I knew I'd end up letting him take them.

"Do you ask all the girls for photos?" I couldn't help thinking about Sam and his final letter to Emily. Everything about the way Edward touched me, his fingers trembling, his lips devouring, made me realize how desperate he was for a physical connection. And when he couldn't touch me—when he had his camera in his hands or we were sitting too far apart—he somehow managed to keep that connection with his eyes. I wasn't stupid; I knew men had needs. But the insecurity was killing me; the thought he might have touched somebody else.

"There are no other girls." He said it so matter-of-factly there was no reason to disbelieve him. "Only you, Bella. Just you." He placed the camera down gently on his towel, pushing himself up to his knees until he was leaning right over me. "When I go to sleep every night you're all I see. Sometimes the memories are so clear I can almost smell you." He brushed his lips against mine. "Other times I have to wrack my brain to even remember the shape of your nose. I just want something to tell me you're real."

I pulled him closer, until his lips smashed against mine. I felt like crying again at his confession. I knew how lucky I was, being the one left behind, not the one who was living in a war zone unaware of what was happening in the outside world. And at that moment I would have given him anything, _everything_, he wanted. Whatever it took for him to make it through the next few months alive.

Whatever it took for him to come home to me … safe and sound.

* * *

**A/N Love to Fran, Sparrow, Mid and Pates. And to you for reading. **

**Love you guys.**

**Choc xoxo**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

I was lying on the dark-sanded beach with the afternoon sun kissing my skin. Edward was wandering along the shoreline, unable to keep still for too long. He spent the last few hours pointing his camera around, trying to freeze time in a three inch frame. It was as if he was afraid he'd forget something. Or maybe he needed tangible evidence of our time together. I didn't protest when his lens pointed at me again and again, the black box all but obscuring his eyes. His mouth twisted to one side as he concentrated on the focus.

After a while, I started to doze. There was a gentle breeze wafting up from the shore, and the warm air blanketed my body. I was in that limbo state, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, relaxed and loose on the sand. A long shadow made the orange glow behind my closed eyes turn a darker grey, and I lifted my lids, shading my eyes as I looked up. Edward towered above me.

"You want to go for a swim?" He laid his camera down on the towel, wrapping it up in a t-shirt. His body was glowing from the heat, tanned and shiny, like he needed cooling down. It was all too easy to smile and nod. I took his proffered hand, allowing him to pull me up, grains of gritty sand sliding off my legs as I got to my feet.

We ran into the waves, the water so much warmer than the lake back home. It lapped around our hips as we waded out farther, our movements leaving tiny trails behind us.

"I can't believe how warm it is." I dragged my fingers across the surface. We were getting deeper, the water almost reaching my chest. "I'm never going to want to swim in the lake again."

He started to laugh. The skin around his eyes crinkled up and his head tipped back, and just seeing it warmed me inside. "You're spoiled."

"I am." I nodded madly, the smile refusing to leave my face. I loved it when he was playful. "You've created a monster, Dr. Frankenstein." I flicked my hand in the water, splashing his face. A few drops of saltwater flew in his mouth, making him splutter. Just looking at him was enough to make my heart race. Everything about him warmed me up: his smile, his laughter, the way he stared back at me. I wanted to drag him back to our hotel room and show him exactly how spoiled I was and how much I treasured every part of him.

"Come here." He lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around his hips, my thighs circling his waist. He walked out farther, to where the water reached his shoulders, and I knew if I tried to put my feet down, I wouldn't be able to stand. I clung to him tightly, my arms securely clamped around his neck. When I felt him grow hard against me, once again, it made me smile. It made me want everything.

"You feel so good." He whispered it in my ear, his lips moving against my face. His fingers dug into my behind, pushing under my bikini, massaging my skin. "I want you again."

I closed my eyes tightly. My body was sliding against his; the gentle waves making us rock against each other. He was hard as a rock beneath his swim shorts, digging sweetly against me, making me moan softly. A moment later he dipped his head, capturing my mouth with his, sucking and nibbling at my bottom lip. My hands moved up, digging into his hair, tugging and pulling him until we were so close it almost hurt.

"Oh God." He pushed against me harder and I could feel his need. There was something about the way we rubbed against each other that felt so intimate. It lit a fire inside my belly, making me burn from the inside out. Need took hold of my body, making my limbs move languidly against him, my skin meld itself to his. A moment later, his fingers were scrambling between us, releasing himself, pulling my bikini aside. I didn't do a thing to stop him, because I wanted him as much as he wanted me. Needed him, even. He pushed himself inside me, in one long stroke, his tongue sliding sweetly against mine, his hips moving softly until neither of us could say a word.

Sweet and sensual, his gentle movements and slow lips painted pleasure into my skin; the pressure was almost too much to bear. I held him tightly, murmuring his name, begging him not to let me go. He kissed me deeply, stealing the words from my lips until all that remained was breath and love. And those belonged to him, too.

~*CD*~

Later, we went back to our hotel room. I took a shower, washing the saltwater from my skin, scrutinizing the bruises that had formed on my hips. They were almost finger-shaped, and I placed my own against them, trying to emulate the spread of his hand. I tried not to think too much that they'd still be there long after he went back, a lasting reminder of our days in the sun. It wasn't the bruises that hurt. It was the thought of him leaving again, of going back to Vietnam, of having another five months in a war zone while I waited impatiently for him back home.

I didn't need dark imprints on my hips to mark me out as his. He'd touched me everywhere, inside and out, and it cut like a knife to think we'd be apart again. Somehow, I was going to have to go back to college as if nothing had happened, and get through my classes without breaking down. I wasn't sure if that was even possible. After a week together, I wanted to be with him constantly, to feel his body physically against mine, to hear his voice in my ears and smell his scent on my skin. I wouldn't have given these days up for anything, but knowing he'd be leaving made a sob catch in my throat.

I tried to hide my anxieties as we ate dinner, forcing myself to smile whenever his eyes met mine. We were at a nightclub, eating overcooked steaks and listening to the live music that played every night. There was a two-piece band on the corner stage. A guy with long straw-colored hair was playing a banjo, a smaller, darker man strumming a guitar. They were making jokes with the audience, calling out for requests, generally playing off each other. The air was dense with smoke and I breathed it in, allowing the burned air to sting my throat.

Edward ordered a bottle of red wine and we drank it too fast, the alcohol making us dizzy and silly. Every time he caught my eye I found myself looking back at him, ignoring the nagging feeling in my stomach, and the knowledge we only had a few days left. We weren't the only ones trying to cling on to our own little piece of happiness. Nearly everybody was on R & R. The couples clung tightly to each other, and the single guys surrounded themselves with pretty girls and too many drinks.

He scooted his chair next to mine, resting his arm on my shoulders, his fingers playing with my hair. I leaned my head into his shoulder, a soft smile curving my lips. I could smell the tang of his cologne still clinging to his skin, warm and musky as I breathed it in. At moments like this it was easy to let him overwhelm me, until I almost forgot we were on limited time.

"How's school?" He buried his face in my hair, as if to breathe in the scent of my shampoo. His voice was low and close to my ear. It made me shiver.

"Harder than last year. It's nice to have my own place, though." I had moved into a single-room apartment just north of the campus. I had to share a kitchen and a bathroom, and my bed combined as a sofa, but it was mine, and I loved it. I hadn't told Edward, but I'd rented it hoping he'd join me there when he left Vietnam. We hadn't discussed his plans, though I knew his father still had something political in mind.

"I can't wait to see it." He pulled me closer still, running his soft lips down my neck. My mouth felt suddenly dry. It made the hairs on my skin stand up; I was so needy for his touch. "And the protests?"

I lifted my head up and looked at him. Then I glanced around the room, feeling like a criminal among saints. "I'm not sure I should talk about that."

He shrugged, unperturbed by my reaction. "Are you still manning the vigil?"

I nodded. "Every Thursday night." I worked some other nights and on the weekend. Living on my own had raised my expenses, and I'd found a job in a local bar. Just like in the summer at the diner, it helped take my mind off things. "How much news do you get over there? Have you seen any footage of the protests?"

The band was circulating the room with their instruments, serenading the ladies and saluting the men. They stopped at our table for a moment, the loud strings of the guitar halting our conversation. The banjo player dropped to his knees in front of me, singing loudly as I tried not to laugh. Edward curled his hand tighter around my shoulder, his own body shaking with humor.

We didn't start talking again until they left. "We don't get much of anything besides a few newsreels and some old movies. _Citizen Kane_ doesn't seem so exciting when you've seen it for the fourth time." He raised his brows. "I still can't believe Rosebud was a fucking sled."

I tried not to laugh. "You're not missing much. They had a season of John Wayne movies at the drive-thru this summer."

Edward turned to look at me. His brows drew down, a crinkle appearing between them. "You went to the drive-thru?" His eyes softened and I could almost see the memories flashing behind them. It seemed so long ago that we laid there in the backseat of Angela's mom's car, his denim-clad legs between mine. I missed the innocence we had back then. Even with the world exploding around us, we had this certainty that we could make things right. Just by protesting, or even by going to war, we could rebuild our country and our lives. The past year had made me so less sure of that.

"Only with Eric and Angela. And I stayed in the front seat." I didn't miss the relief flashing across his face. And I liked it, that he could still feel jealous, that he still liked me enough to care. Even if I gave him no reason to doubt me, his possessiveness still made my heart race.

A few couples stood up to dance. Edward took my hand, pulling me up to standing and leading me over to the small, lit-up circle in the middle of the room. Curling his arm around my waist, I felt his hand press into the small of my back, and I looped my own around his neck. Swaying softly, with the music light and slow, I closed my eyes as I let him lead me to the beat.

"Is it true soldiers get spat at when they arrive in San Francisco?" His voice was low as he asked. I wasn't sure what to say, how to tell him the way soldiers were being treated. During our late-night vigils, I heard tales of boys being greeted with placards declaring them 'baby-killers' and people throwing urine at them. With our vigil being on campus, we were more circumspect, and less vitriolic, though I suspected a lot of their slogans were toned down for me. They all knew I had a boyfriend in the military.

"I haven't seen that happen." I wrapped my fingers securely around his neck. I wasn't sure how much to tell him about a country that didn't support his efforts. I wanted him to come home without incident or injury, and I wanted him to look forward to it. Anxiety started to gnaw at my stomach as I wondered if I should be preparing him more. But I felt like I should be protecting him from the realities of life back home while I could. The same way he was trying to protect me from the realities of war in Vietnam.

Maybe that was our biggest problem. We were so busy trying to shield each other that it stopped us from being honest. I didn't know where to draw the line between truth and white lies.

"I don't care what happens; I just want to come home." His words made my eyes squeeze shut, trying to push back the tears threatening to form. Because that was what I wanted to see more than anything else; to watch him walk out of that Air Force Base and back into my arms. Even if he was flying back to a country that didn't appreciate him, that chanted slogans about killing kids and making love, not war, I wanted him back there. It was so much safer than being in Saigon.

Lifting my head, I pressed my lips to his. "Soon."

He moved his mouth gently, sliding his tongue inside. He released my waist to cup my head, angling it so he could kiss me harder. I could feel him pressing against me; the hard definition of his chest muscles, the steel-hard ridge of his excitement.

We kissed all the way back to our room, ignoring any stares of the staff working there. We felt free of expectations, of society's demands. Such a short time to spend together, there was no way I wanted to miss a thing.

~*CD*~

I slept fitfully, not used to sharing a bed with anybody, my thighs aching and sore from another round of lovemaking. The light-oak ceiling fan rotated noisily overhead, sending a gentle breeze to my skin, making the white-voile curtains flutter like a ghost on Halloween.

The room was strangely quiet. An hour before, we'd been woken by returning revelers, their drunken conversations echoing across the hallway. But now it was the witching hour, all clubs were closed and bars locked up. Only the occasional throb of an engine split the silence of the night, cutting through the air like a sharp knife.

Edward was asleep. He laid on his side; body curled toward me, his knees almost touching his chest. Despite the uncomfortable bend of his position, he still managed to slumber like a baby. I reached out and traced the firm, straight line of his nose, felt the silky softness of his lips. His eyelids fluttered, long dark eyelashes sweeping across his cheeks like butterflies on a cabbage plant. His mouth opened slightly, enough for me to feel his breath against my skin.

In the distance, the loud crack of a car backfiring made me jump. Beside me, Edward sat bolt upright, his wide eyes glowing like bright orbs in the dark room. It was less than a second before I felt him hurl his body against mine, knocking the breath from my lungs and words from my mouth.

The back of my head hit the wooden floor; my body pinned by his. The sudden movement blurred my vision and shook my thoughts. I barely had enough time to work out where I was before he dragged me under the bed, his fingers biting deep into my skin.

"Gunfire," he whispered. "Keep quiet." His hand was scrabbling around his hip, like he was looking for a gun.

I tried to lick my dry, cracked lips. My leg was folded uncomfortably beneath me, my knee aching from the awkward position. I couldn't catch his gaze; he kept looking from one side to another, searching for an enemy that wasn't there.

"It was a car." My words were tentative. I was afraid to speak loudly; scared it might frighten him more. My heartbeat felt like a jackhammer against my chest, and I could have sworn my perspiration smelled of fear. A bead of sweat ran down my chest, pooling between my breasts.

"What?" He shook his head, like he was trying to wake it up.

"It wasn't gunfire, Edward. Just a car backfiring." I reached out to stroke his bare arm. My hand shook like a leaf. "We're in Hawaii, baby."

It took few moments for realization to sink into his features. I could see him become lucid, his expression changing from calculating to embarrassed. He backed away from me, curling his arms around his body like a barrier, trying to shut me out. I wanted to say something, to tell him it was all okay. But my breath caught in my throat, fear pushing the words back down. Because I didn't believe them.

"I need the bathroom." He twisted out from under the bed, leaving me there among the dust bunnies and detritus. From my vantage point on the floor, I could see the rusty coils of bed springs above my face. Some of them hung down, corroded and broken.

"Edward …" I crawled from under the bed and saw him disappear from the room. Pulling on my robe, I quickly knotted the sash, following him out into the dimly-lit hallway. He hadn't made it as far as the bathroom. He was slumped against the painted wall, crouched on the floor, his body doubled over. I watched as sobs wracked his body, his bare back hitching as he silently cried. A lump the size of a rock settled in my throat, stinging my lungs and making my eyes itch.

I felt helpless. My hand hovered in the air, and a couple times I reached out to touch him. I wanted to curl my body around his, to protect him in a way I never could when he was in Saigon. I wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay.

Even if it wasn't.

I dropped to my knees, my body protesting as my skins hit wood for the second time in as many minutes. Edward seemed captive to his own misery, barely noticing my existence, his breath keening as he tried to gain control of his feelings.

"Oh, Edward …" I couldn't find the words, wasn't even sure they existed. I rested my cheek on his shoulder, closing my eyes as his silent cries cut deep in my soul. He turned his dark gaze on me, his jaw tense and hard in the half-light. Then, curling a hand around my waist, he pulled me toward him until I was sitting on his lap.

He inclined his head until his brows touched mine. His breath bathed my face, smelling faintly of tequila and smoke.

"Baby, are you okay?" I cupped his face with my hands, feeling the roughness of his bristled jaw. "It was just a car."

Warmth flooded his face, burning hot against my hands. "I know."

As my fingers moved up, I could feel the damp trail of his tears and the tense set of his expression. Fear gnawed at my stomach like a hungry rat. Seeing Edward cry was so unexpected, so surreal, that I had no idea what to do next. Should I ignore it, in case he didn't want me to know he was emotional? Should I talk about it and see if I could get through? In the end, he took the decision right away from me, capturing my lips with his. He moaned, growing hard against me just before he lifted me up and carried me back to our room.

That night, he made love with a hard, animalistic edge, and I soaked it up. I whispered words of love in his ear, praying he'd find his way home. And hoping that whatever awaited him there wouldn't be worse than the war he left behind.

~*CD*~

We spent our final day on the island lazing around on the beach. I lounged on the hot sand and watched make-shift games of volleyball spring up, while Edward took more photographs and stared out at the ocean. My body felt like it was aching all over, my muscles sore from too much sex, my emotions tender and raw at the thought of our parting. Our flesh had turned a deep oak-brown, and my nose had turned red with a smattering of freckles.

"It's only a few months, now." He lowered the camera from his face and cleared his throat. "We probably need to make some plans."

He didn't need to say he was talking about his homecoming. It was the only thing that was occupying my mind.

"What do you want to do?" I knew what I wanted, but I needed him to tell me. I wanted him home with me, lying in my tiny bed, my vibrant bedcover draped over our naked bodies. I wanted him to go out to work—whatever that would be—then come home to me.

But I also knew he had a family. One that demanded his time.

"I should be home sometime in February or March." He wouldn't know until nearer the time. "I guess I'll try to apply to some med schools when I get back. I don't know if it will be too late."

He didn't sound too certain. I wasn't sure if it was because the mainland seemed so far away, or if he was changing his mind about his future.

"You've always got a home with me." I inhaled through dry, sun burned lips. "If you want it, that is."

He turned to look at me. His head was angled to the left, his eyes dark. Their intensity made my heart stutter. "I always want to be with you."

"Then come home to me." I said it softly, quietly, but I meant every word. He leaned forward, placing his hands beneath my arms, pulling me to him until our sweaty skin slid against each other.

"I'm coming home, Bella, you don't need to doubt that … ever." He ran his lips across my cheek, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin of my neck. "There's no place I'd rather be." I closed my eyes, feeling the gentle sea breeze brush against our bodies as he moved his lips along my shoulder. I wanted to bottle up this feeling and take it back to California with me. Something to take out and feel again when I was at my lowest.

"I'll be waiting, for as long as it takes." I ran my hands down his back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath my palms. Five months; it wasn't that long. I could survive the wait, if he could survive the battle. And though I knew the Edward coming home wasn't the same man who left, I was also aware everything else had changed too. He'd be arriving back in a country that was angrier and more jaded than the one he left. Even I, in my tiny apartment with my steady, college life, wasn't the same girl I was back in '67. But maybe together we could move forward.

~*CD*~

When I woke the next morning, he was gone. Only the soft indentation of the mattress and the lingering smell of his cologne was enough to tell me he'd ever been there. I curled into a ball, covering my face with my hands as hot tears poured down my cheeks. My sobs were ugly and loud, wracking through my body like a series of tiny detonations. I grasped his pillow tightly, burying my face in it, and screamed for all I was worth, but there was no one to hear me. His absence was already cutting me to the core.

When I finally stopped crying, I rolled to my side, noticing a piece of paper lying on the table next to the bed. I reached out and grabbed it and a small, shell bracelet fell on the covers. I lifted it up, clasping it around my wrist, circling it with my fingers as if it would bring him back. And only then did my eyes clear enough for me to read his words, my gaze following his neat, black script as it swirled across the page.

_Dear Bella,_

_It's no exaggeration to say the last week has been the best of my life. Every moment spent with you was like a dream, and it's enough to get me through the next few months in Vietnam. I hate to leave you while you're asleep, but I know that neither of us can face saying our goodbyes yet again. Not when we've said them too many times before._

_You said you wanted me to come home to you—I want that too. More than anything, baby. So I promise, when I come back this time, it will be for good._

_There are so many things I want to say, but there never seems enough time to speak the words. Most of all I want to thank you. For flying out to see me, for agreeing to wait for me, for keeping your faith in me when so many people have lost theirs. And for loving me, unconditionally._

_I love you, beautiful. Take care of yourself, and I promise to get home as soon as I can. Just a few more months until I can hold you in my arms again. I'm already counting down the days._

_Yours,_

_Edward._

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**A/N - Thank you to Fran, Mid, Shelli and Sparrow. I couldn't do this thing without you guys. And you make me smile. Every single day.**

**Thank you for all the kind reviews, messages and pimps. And to 6dlb5 for nominating California Dreamin' for Fic of the Week over at Teh Lemonade Stand. I really appreciate your support.**

**I'm chocaholic fanfic on facebook, chocaholic12345 on twitter. Come chat to me, it's good to talk!**

**See you next time. Choc xoxo **


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